
Glass- 
Book- 



f^ 



SKETCHES 

OF 

WESTERN- ADVENTURE 

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT 

OF THE 

MOST INTERESTING INCIDENTS 

CONNECTED WITH THE 

SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST, 

raOM 1153 X© 1194: 
WITH 

AN APPENDIX. 

REVISED AND CORRECTED, WITH ENGRAVINGS 



BY JOHN A. M.'OLUNG. 



DAYTON, OHIO: 
PUBLISHED BY L. F. CLAFLiN & CO 

PAYTON" GAZETTE COMPANY, PRINTERS. 

"^8 5 47^ 









Em&Nid according' to act of Congress, in the year 183if», 
BY J, A, JAMES & CO., 
hi Oie Clerk's OMce of the District Court of Ohio. 



CONTENTS, 



Paoi. 

€HAP. I. Adventures of Colonel James Smith, 9 

11. " Daniel Boone, 40 

IIL « General Simon Kenton, 80 

IV. " General Benjamin Logan, - - - - - - 109 

V. «< Colonel William Crawford, « = - ^ * 5 119 

VL « John Slover, - - - - - 135 

VIL «' Captain Robert Benham, 148 

«« « Alexander McConnel, 151 

^ " Robert and Samuel McAfee, 164 

" " Bryant and Hogan,- - -» 15S 

« « McKiniey, .---, 158 

< « David Morgan, -- ,.---» 160 

« « Adam Poe, 163 

Vm. « Mrs. Woods, - - 170 

« « Davis, Caflree and McClure, - 171 

« « Captain James Ward, 175 

«« *' Francis Downing, ----- 176 

« « The Widow Scaggs, 179 

<»' Incidents attending the desertion of a young white 

man from a party of Indians, ----- 18S 

« Adventures of John Merril, 187 

IX. " Ward, Calvin and Kenton, - 188 

« a Ward, Baker and Kenton, 194 

X. « May, Johnston, Flinn and Skyles, - - - 195 

XL <f Captain William Hubbell, 231 

XII. War in the North West, 23j9 

«< Harmer's Expedition, 240 

" Adventures of Jackson Johonnet, --------- 24S 

XIII. Expedition of General Arthur St. Clair, 250 

" Adventures of William Kennan, ---------258 

XIV. Expedition of Wayne, 264 

«< Mission of Miller, - 26t 

« Battle of the <^ Fallen Timber," 269 

« Adventure of the tv/o young Johnsons, ------ 270 

« Appendix, - 277 

A 2 V 



P R E F A C B. 



iir these « latter days ,*' when a rage for book making pervades all 
ages, sexes, and conditions, it is scarcely necessary to offer the usual 
kackneyed apology, for what is modestly called < a trespass upon the 
patience of the public I ' Should the book prove entertaining, and m 
Mrme degree useful, no apology will be necessary— if otherwise, ncme 
will be received. Instead, therefore, of spinning a dozen or moM 
acntences, in the usual deprecating tone, or (which is frequently donte) 
throwing dawn the gauntlet at the whole tribe of critics, I shall con- 
tent myself with a few remarks, upon the degree of credit which is to 
1w attached to the following pages. 

Several years ago, when the author was younger and more confix 
dant, than at present, he was seduced into the perpetration of a book 
which was intended for a novel. It never attracted much attention, 
and has long since been forgotten, except by the immediate acquaint 
tances of the author. Upon the appearance of the present work, to 
which the title and other circumstances unconnected with the merit 
•f the execution, will probably give a more extensive circulation, the 
racoUection of "Camden," will probably be revived with many 
readers in the West, and give rise to a suspicion that the present 
work is as truly an offspring of the imagination as the former. A 
nmple denial of the charge would, probably, gain but little credit. 
I wish therefore, to refer distinctly to the sources from which the 
materials for the present work have been derived, in order to give 
tvery one who chooses, an opportunity of satisfying himself as to ite 
authenticity. 

For the correctness with which the adventures of Boone, Smith, 
and JoHNSTOjr are detailed, I refer the reader to the printed narratives 
of each of those gentlemen, which are to be found upon the shelves 
af almost every bookseller in the West. In the life of Boone, there 
are many particulars relating to the siege of Byrant's station and the 
iNkttle of the Blue Licks, which are not to be found in Boone's nar- 
rative. For some of these, I am indebted to Mr. Marshall ; but most 
<€ them have been taken from a series of << Notes," which appeared 

vii 



Ti« PREFACE. 

several years ago in the Kentucky Gazette, and which were carefulij 
taken down from the verbal communications of individuals still livings 
who were actively engaged in those scenes. 

For the striking incidents attending the expedition of Crawfobd, 
I am indebted to the printed narratives of Kistight and Sloveb, 
which were published immediately after their return to Virginia, 
when the affair was fresh in the recollection of hundreds, and any 
misstatement would instantly have been corrected. Kenton's ad- 
ventures are taken from a manuscript account dictated by the vener- 
able pioneer himself, and now^ in the possession of Mr. John D. Taylor, 
of Washington, Ky. from whom at some future day, we may expect 
a full detail of his whole life, of which I have only given a rapid and 
imperfect sketch. The adventures of Johonnet, are taken from a 
printed account by himself, which first appeared in 1791, immediately 
after the defeat of St. Clair, and those of Kennan, from his own ac- 
count, which the author, in common with many others, has heard re- 
peatedly from his own lips. For the rest, I refer the reader general- 
ly, to Metcalf 's collection, Mr. — " Border Wars," and the 

« Notes on Kentucky," already mentioned. 

A small portion, and comparatively but a small portion, of the mi- 
nor details, have been gathered from personal conversation with the 
individuals concerned. Had I chosen to have given admission to 
mere rumors, related by persons who had received them from others, 
I might have given a host of anecdotes, partaking strongly of tha 
marvellous, and some of them really worthy of being inserted, could 
I have been satisfied of their truth ! But I have chosen to confine 
Myself to those only which were given upon unquestionablo author- 
ity, and can conscientiously aflfirm, that I have admitted nothln|f 
wliich I myself, at the time, did not believe to be true. 



SK/fiTCHES 

OF 

we5;tern adventure 



CHAPTER I. 

The English settiements in North America, until late 
k the 18th century, were confined to the country lying 
^ast of the Allegheny mountains. Even the most adven- 
tpurous traders from Virginia and Pennsylvania, rarely 
penetrated beyond the head waters of the Ohio river, and 
the spot where Pittsburgh now stands, was, for a long 
time, an extreme frontier point, where the white fur tr^ 
ders and the western Indians were accustomed to meet 
and exchange their commodities. All beyond was an un- 
explored wilderness, which was known only as occupying 
certain degrees of latitude and longitude upon the map. 
Shortly before the old French war of 1755, this spot was 
occupied by the French, and a fort erected, which, in honor 
of their commander, was called Du Quesne. 

The possession of this fortress was keenly debated du- 
ring the earlier years of the war, and was soon rendered 
memorable by the disastrous expedition of Braddock and 
Grant. Omitting a regular detail of these events, which 
have been often related, we shall commence our desulto- 
ry history with a detail of the adventures of CoL James 
Smith, who subsequently removed to Kentucky, and for 
many years was a resident of Bourbon county. He was 
tJie first anglo-American who penetrated into the interior 
•f the Western country; at least the first who has given us 
an account of his adventures; and in a succession of 
sketches, like the present, designed to commemorate indi- 
vidual rather than national exertions, he is justly entitled 
^ the distinction which we give him. If we mi^«take not| 

9 



10 WESTExHlN ADVENTITRE. 

hk adventures will be found particularly interesting, as 
affording more ample specimens of savage manners and 
character, than almost any other account now in existence. 

In the spring of the year 1755, James Smith, then a 
youth of eighteen, accompanied a party of three hundred 
men from the frontiers of Pennsylvania, who advanced in 
front of Braddock's army for the purpose of opening a road 
over the mountain. When within a few miles of the Bed- 
ford springs, he was sent back to the rear, to hasten the 
progress of some wagons loaded with provisions and stores 
for the use of the road cutters. Having delivered his or- 
ders, he was returning, in company with another young 
man, w hen they were suddenly fired upon by a party ot 
three Indians, from a cedar thicket which skirted the road. 
Smith's companion was killed on the spot; and, although 
he himself was unhurt, yet his horse was so much fright- 
ened by the flash and report of the guns, as to become 
totally unmanageable, and after a few plunges, threw him 
with violence to the ground. Before he could recover 
his feet, the Indians sprung upon him, and, overpowering 
his resistance, secured him as a prisoner. 

One of them demanded, in broken English, whether 
'• more white men were coming up;'' and upon his answer- 
ing in the negative, he was seized by each arm, and com- 
pelled to run with great rapidity over the mountain until 
night, when the small party encamped and cooked their 
supper. An equal share of their scanty stock of provi- 
sions was given to the prisoner; and in other respects, al^ 
though strictly guarded, he was treated with great kindness. 
On the evening of the next day, after a rapid walk of fifty 
miles, through cedar thickets, and over very rocky ground, 
they reached the western side of the Laurel mountain, 
and beheld at a little distance the smoke of an Indian en 
campment. His captors now fired their guns, and raised 
the scalp halloo! This is a long yell for every scalp that 
has been taken, followed by a rapid succession of shrill, 
quick, piercing shrieks, somewhat resembling laughter in 
its most excited tones. They were answered from the 
Indian camp below, by a discharge of rifles and a long 
whoop, followed by shrill cries of joy, and all thronged 



JAMES SJMITH. 11 

out to meet the party. Smith expected instant death at 
their hands, as they crowded around him; but to his sur- 
prise, no one cffered him any violence. They belonged 
to another tribe, and entertained the party in their camp 
with great hospitality, respecting the prisoner as the pro- 
perty of their guests. 

On the following morning Smith's captors continued 
their march, and en the evening of the next day arrived 
at fort Du Quesne, now Pittsburgh. When within half a 
mile of the fort, they again raised the scalp halloo, and 
fired their guns as before. Instantly the whole garrison 
was in commotion. The cannon were fired, the drums 
were beaten, and French and Indians ran out in great 
numbers to meet the party, and partake of their triumph. 
Smith was again surrounded by a multitude of savages, 
painted in various colors, and shouting with delight; but 
their demeanor was by no means as pacific as that of the 
last party he had encountered. They rapidly formed in 
two long lines, and brandishing their hatchets, ramrods, 
switches, &lc, called aloud upon him to run the gauntlet. 

Never having heard of this Indian ceremony before, he 
stood amazed for some time, not knowing what to do; but 
one of his captors explained to him, that he was to run 
between the two lines, and receive a blov/from e8xh Indian 
as he passed, concluding his explanation by exhorting him 
to "run his best," as the faster he run the sooner the af- 
fair would be over. This truth was very plain; and young 
Smith entered upon li ."^ "ace with great spirit. He was 
switched very handsomely along the lines, for about three- 
fourths of the distance, the stripes only acting as a spur 
to greater exertions, and he had almost reached the oppo- 
site extremity of the line, when a tall chief struck him a 
furious blow with a club up6r) the back of the head, and 
instraitly felled him to the ground. Recovering himself 
in a moment, he sprung to his ^eet and started forward 
again, when a handful of sand was thrown in his eyes, 
which, in addition to the great pain, completely blinded 
him. He still attempted to grope his way through ; but 
was again knocked down and beaten with merciless se- 
verity He soon became insensible ;mder such barba- 



i8 WESTERN AiiVENTURE. 

rous treatment, and recollected nothing more, until he 
found himself in the hospital of the fort, under the hands 
of a French surgeon, beaten to a jelly, and unable to 
move a limb. Here he was quickly visited by one of hi* 
captors, the same who had given him such good advice^ 
when about to commence his race. 

He now inquired, with some interest, if he felt « very 
3ore." Young Smith replied, that he had been bruised al- 
most to death, and asked what he had done to merit sucb 
barbarity. The Indian replied that he had done nothing, 
but that it was the customary greeting of the Indians U> 
their prisoners; that it was something like the English 
•« how d'ye do ?" and that now all ceremony would be laid 
aside, and he would be treated with kindness. Smith in- 
quired if they had any news of General Braddock. Tbt 
Indian replied that their scouts saw him every day from 
the mountains; that he was advancing in close columnf? 
through the woods ; (this he indicated by placing a num- 
ber of red sticks parallel to each other, and pressed closely 
together;) and that the Indians would be able to shoot 
them down "like pigeons." 

Smith rapidly recovered, and was soon able to walk 
upon the battlements of the fort, with the aid of a stick. 
While engaged in this exercise, on the morning of the 
9th July, he observed an unusual bustle in the fort. Th« 
Indians stood in crowds at the great gate, armed and 
painted. Many barrels of powder, ball, flints, &.c. were 
brought out to them, from which each warrior helped him- 
self to such articles as he required. They were soo» 
joined by a small detachment of French regulars, when 
the whole party marched oif together. He had a full 
view of them as they passed, and was confident that they 
could not exceed four hundred men. He soon learned 
that it was detached against Braddock, who was now with- 
in a few miles of the fort; but from their great inferiority 
in numbers, he regarded their destruction certain, and 
looked joyfully to the arrival of Braddock in the evening, 
as^the hour which was to deliver him from the power of 
the Indians. In the afternoon, however, an Indian run- 
OCT arrived with far different intelligence. The batii^ 



JAMES SMITH. 13 

had not yet ended when he left the field, but he announ- 
ced that the English had been surrounded, and were shot 
down in heaps by an invisible enemy; that instead of fly- 
ing at once, or rushing upon their concealed foe, they 
appeared completely bewildered, huddled together in th^ 
center of the ring, and before sundown there would not 
be a man of them alive. 

This intelligence fell like a thunderbolt upon Smith, 
who now saw himself irretrievably in the power of the 
savages, and could look forward to nothing but torture or 
endless captivity. He waited anxiously for further intel- 
ligence, still hoping that the fortune of the day might 
change. But about sunset, he heard at a distance the 
well known scalp halloo, followed by wild, quick, joyful 
shrieks, and accompanied by long continued firing. This 
too surely announced the fate of the day. About dusk, 
the party returned to the fort, driving before them twelve 
British regulars, stripped naked and with their faces paint- 
ed black ! an evidence that the unhappy wretches were 
devoted to death. 

Next came the Indians displaying their bloody scalps, 
of which they bad immense numbers, and dressed in the 
scarlet coats, sashes, and military hats of the officers and 
soldiers. Behind all came a train of baggage horses, 
laden with piles of scalps, canteens, and all the accoutre- 
ments of British soldiers. The savages appeared frantic 
with joy, and when Smith beheld them entering the fort, 
dancing, yelling, brandishing their red tomahawks, and 
waving their scalps in the air, while the great guns of the 
fort replied to the incessant discharge of rifles without, 
he says, that it looked as if H — 11 had given a holiday, 
and turned loose its inhabitants upon the upper world. 

The most melancholy spectacle was the band of prison- 
ers. They appeared dejected and anxious. Poor fel- 
lows ! They had but a few months before left London, 
at the command of their superiors, and we may easily im- 
agine their feelings, at tne strange and dreadful spectacle 
around them. The yells of delight and congratulation 
were scarcely over, when those of vengeance began. 
The devoted prisoners — British regulars — were led out 

B 



14 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

from the fort to the banks of the Allegheny, and to the 
eternal disgrace of the French commandant, were there 
burnt to death, one after another, with the most av/ful tor- 
tares. 

Smith stood upon the battlements and witnessed the 
shocking spectacle. The prisoner was tied to a stake 
with his hands raised above his head, stripped naked, and 
surrounded by Indians. They would touch him with red 
hot irons, and stick his body full of pine splinters an^'se-t 
them on fire, drowning the shrieks of the victim in the 
yells of delight with which they danced around him. 
His companions in the mean time stood in a group near 
the stake, and had a foretaste of what was in reserve for 
each of them. As fast as one prisoner died under his 
tortures, another filled his place, until the whole perish- 
ed. All this took place so near the fort, that every 
scream of the victims must have rung in the ears of the 
French commandant! 

Two or three days after this shocking spectacle, most 
of the Indian tribes dispersed and returned to their homes, 
as is usual with them after a great and decisive battle. 
Young Smith was demanded of the French by the tribe to 
whom he belonged, and was immediately surrendered in- 
to their hands. 

The party embarked in canoes, and ascended the Alle- 
gheny river, as far as a small Indian town about forty 
miles above fort Du Quesne. There they abandoned their 
canoes, and striking into the woods, traveled in a west- 
ern direction, until they arrived at a considerable Indian 
town, in what is now the state of Ohio. This village was 
called Tullihas, and was situated upon the western branch 
of the Muskingum. During the whole of this period, 
Smith suffered much anxiety, from the uncertainty of his 
future fate, but at this town all doubt was removed. On 
the morning of his arrival, the principal members of the 
tribe gathered around him; and one old man with deep 
gravity, began to pluck out his hair by the roots, while 
the others looked on in silence, smoking their pipes with 
great deliberation. 

Smith did not understand the design of this singular 



JAMES SMITH. 15 

eeremony, but submitted very patiently to the man's la- 
bors, who performed the operation of « picking" him with 
great dexterity, dipping his fingers in ashes occasionally, 
In order to take a better hold. In a very few moments 
Smith's head was bald, with the exception of a single long 
tuft upon the center of his crown, called the " scalp lock.'' 
This was carefully plaited in such a manner as to stand 
upright, and was ornamented with several silver brooches. 
His ears aiid nose were then bored with equal gravity, 
and ornam'jnted with ear-rings and nose jewels. He was 
then ordered to strip; which being done, his naked body 
was painted in various fantastic colors, and a breech-cloth 
fastened round his loins. A belt of wampum was then 
placed arov nd his neck, and silver bands around his right 
arm. 

To tAl dais Smith submitted with much anxiety, being 
totally ig;?^orant of their customs, and dreading lest, like 
the Britiyh prisoners, he had been stripped and painted 
for tb^ ytake. His alarm was increased, when an old 
chief azose, took him by the arm, and leading him out in- 
to the open air, gave three shrill whoops, and was instant- 
ly suiTounded by every inhabitant of the village, warriors, 
women, and children. The chief then addressed the 
crowd in a long speech, still holding Smith by the hand. 
When he had ceased speaking, he led Smith forward, and 
delivered him into the hands of three young Indian girls, 
who, grappling him without ceremony, towed him off to the 
river which ran at the foot of the hill, dragged him in the 
water up to his breast, and all three suddenly clapping 
their hands upon his head, attempted to put him under. 
Utterly desperate at the idea of being drowned by these 
young ladies. Smith made a manful resistance; the squaws 
persevered; and a prodigious splashing of the water took 
place, amidst loud peals of laughter from the shore. 

At length, one of the squaws became alarmed at th© 
furious struggles of the young whiteman, and cried out 
earnestly several times, "no hurt you! no hurt youP 
Upon this agreeable intelligence, Smith's resistance ceas- 
ed, and these gentle creatures plunged him under the 
water, and scrubbed him from head to foot with equal zaal 



16 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and perseverance. As soon as they were satisfied, they 
led him ashore and presented him to the chief, shivering 
with cold, and dripping with water. The Indians then 
dressed him in a ruffled shirt, leggins, and moccasins, va- 
riously ornamented, seated him upon a bearskin, and gav>e 
him a pipe, tomahawk, tobacco, pouch, flint, and steeL 
The chiefs then took their seats by his side, and smoked 
for several minutes in deep silence, when the eldest deliv- 
ered a speech, through an interpreter, in the following 
words : " My son, you are now one of us. Hereafter, you 
have nothing to fear. By an ancient custom, you have 
been adopted in the room of a brave man, v/ho has fallen,* 
and every drop of white blood has been washed from your 
veins. We are now your brothers, and are bound b}^ 
our law to love you, to defend you, and to avenge your 
injuries, as much as if you were born in our tribe." 

He was then introduced to the members of the family 
into which he had been adopted, and was received by the 
v/hole of them with great demonstrations of regard. In 
the evening, he received an invitation to a great feast-^, 
and was there presented with a wooden bov/1 and spoon, 
and directed to fill the former from a huge kettle of boiled 
corn, and hashed venison. The evening concluded with 
a war dance, and on the next morning, the warriors of 
the tribe assembled, and leaving one or two hunters, to 
provide for their families in their absence, the rest march- 
ed off for the frontiers of Virginia. In leaving the vil- 
lage, the warriors observed the most profound silence, 
with the exception of their leader, who sung the travel- 
ing song, as it is called, and when some distance off, they 
discharged their rifles slowly, and in regular succession, 
beginning in front, and ending with the rear. As soon 
as the warriors had left them. Smith v/as invited to a 
dance, 'in which the Indian boys and young unmarried 
squaws assembled, and entertained themselves for several 
hours together. They formed in two lines facing each 
other, at the distance of about twenty feet. One of the 
young men held a gourd in his hand, filled with pebbles, 
or beads, v/hich he rattled in such a manner as to produce 
music^ and all the dancers singing in concert v/ith their 



JAiViES SMITti. 17 

.eader, moved forward in a line until the parties met; then 
retired, and repeated the same exercise for hours, without 
the least variation. 

Young Smith was merely a spectator in this scene, 
and his chief entertainment arose from observing the 
occasional symptoms of gallantry and coquetry which 
diversified the monotony of the dance. Heads were often 
bent close together as the two lines met, and soft whispers, 
ogling glances, and an occasional gentle tap on the cheek, 
convinced Smith, that Indians are not so insensible to 
the charms of their squaws as has been represented. An 
Indian courtship is somewhat difierent from ours. With 
them, all the coyness, reserve, and pretty delays are con- 
fined to the gentlemen. The young squaws are bold, 
forward, and by no means delicate in urging their passion j 
and a particularly handsome or promising young hunter, 
is often reduced to desperate extremities, to escape the 
toils of these female Lotharios! Smith was uniformly 
treated with the greatest kindness, and was for some time 
particularly distressed by the pressing invitations to eat, 
which he received from all quarters. 

With the Indians, it is uniformly the custom to invite 
every visitor *o eat, as soon as he enters the wigwam ; and 
if he refuses, they are much offended, regarding it as an 
evidence of hostility to them, and contempt for their house 
keeping. Smith, ignorant of this circumstance, v/as 
sometimes pressed to eat twenty times in a day, and ob- 
serving their dark and suspicious glances when he declin- 
ed their hospitality, he endeavored at length to satisfy 
them at the risk of stuffing himself to death. Making it 
a point to eat with all who invited him, he soon found 
himself in great favor, and in the course of a week after 
his adoption, an old chief honored him with an invitation 
to hunt with him. Smith readily consented. At the dis- 
tance of a few miles from the village, they discovered a 
number of buffalo tracks. The old Indian regarded them 
attentively, and followed them with great caution, stop- 
ping frequently to listen, and rolling his eyes keenly ix\ 
every direction. Smith, surprised at this singiilar con- 
duct^ asked him why he did not push on more ra idly, and. 



18 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

endeavor to get a shot. "Hush!" said the Indian, shak 
ing his head, " may be buffalo — may be Catawba !" 

Having at length satisfied himself that they were really 
buffalo, he pushed on more rapidly, and on the way, as- 
signed his reasons for his hesitation. He said, that the 
Catawbas had long been at war with his tribe, and were 
the most cunning and wicked nation in the world. That 
a few years ago, they had secretly approached his camp 
in the night, and sent out a few of their spies, mounted 
upon buffalo hoofs, who walked round their camp, and then 
returned to the main body. That, in the morning, he 
and his warriors, perceiving their tracks, supposed a herd 
of buffalo to be ahead of them, and moved on rapidly in 
pursuit. That, they soon fell into the ambuscade, were 
fired on by the Catawbas, and many of them killed. The 
Catawbas, however, quickly gave way, and were pursued 
by his young men with great eagerness. But they had 
taken the precaution to stick a number of slender reeds 
m the grass, sharpened like a pen, and dipped in rattle- 
snake's poison, so that as his young men pursued them 
eagerly, most of them were artificially snake bitten, and 
lamed. That the Catawbas then turned upon them, over 
powered them, and took the scalps of all who had been 
lamed by the reeds. The old man concluded by shaking 
his head, and declaring that " Catawba was a very bad In- 
dian ; a perfect devil for mischief" 

Smith, however, was so unfortunate a few days after- 
wards, as to fall into discredit with these simple people. 
He had been directed to go out and kill some venison for the 
squaws and children, who had suffered for several days, 
during the absence of the greater part of the warriors. 
As this was the first time that he had been intrusted with 
so weighty a commission alone, he determined to signalize 
his hunt by an unusual display of skill and enterprise. 
He, therefore, struck boldly into the woods, and at a few 
miles distance, falling upon a fresh buffalo trail, he pushed 
on for several miles with gi-eat eagerness. Despairing, 
however, of overtaking them, as the evening came on, 
he began to retrace his steps, and as he had taken a con- 
siderable circuit, he determined to cut across the hills, and 



James smith. 19 

reach the village by a shorter way. He soon became in- 
extricably involved in the mazes of the forest, and at 
dark, found himself completely bewildered. He fired his 
gun repeatedly, in hopes of being heard, but his signal 
was unanswered, and he wandered through the woods the 
whole night, totally unable to find his way home. 

Early in the morning, the Indians, probably suspecting 
him for desertion, started out in pursuit of him, but ob- 
serving the zigzag manner in which the young woodsman 
had marched, they soon became satisfied of the truth, and 
their anger was changed to laughter and contempt. 
Smith's rifle was taken from him, and a bow and arrow 
(the weapons of a boy) were placed in his hands; and 
although he was treated v/ith undiminished kindness by 
all, yet it was evident, that it was mingled with compas- 
sion and contempt, for his ignorance of the woods. He 
was now placed under the particular care of Tontileaugo, 
his adopted brother, and a renowned hunter and warrior. 
With the aid of his directions, he soon learned all the 
mysteries of hunting. He trapped beaver, killed deer, 
bear, and buffalo with great readiness, and in the course 
of the winter, rose considerably in reputation. The war- 
riors were still absent, and the women and children de- 
pended on them entirely for subsistence. 

Sometimes they were three days without food; particu- 
larly, when the snow became hard, and the noise which 
they made in walking on the crust frightened the deer, so 
that they could not come within gunshot. Their only re- 
source then, was to hunt bear trees; that is, for large 
hollow trees in which bears lay concealed during the win- 
ter. The hole is generally from thirty to fifty feet from 
the ground, and they are often compelled to climb up and 
apply fire, in order to drive Bruin out, who obstinately 
maintains his ground until nearly stifled with smoke, and 
then sneezing and snuffling, and growling, he shows him- 
self at the mouth of his hole, for a little fresh air. The 
hunter stations himself below, and fires upon him as soon 
as he appears. Towards spring, the warriors generally 
return, and game is then killed in abundance. 

We shall here pause in our narrative, to mention some 



fO WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

traits of Indian character and manners, which, perhapsr, 
will be interesting to many of our readers, who have not 
had opportunities of informing themselves on the subject. 
The lives of the men are passed in alternate action of the 
most violent kind, and indolence the most excessive. Noth- 
ing but the pressing call of hunger will rouse them to 
much exertion. 

In the months of August and September, when roasting- 
ears are abundant, they abandon themselves to laziness, 
dancing and gaming, and can rarely be roused even to 
hunt, so long as their corn-fields will furnish them food. 
During these months they are generally seen lying down in 
idle contemplation, dancing with their squaws, playing at 
foot-ball, or engaged in a game resembling dice, of which 
they are immoderately fond. War and hunting are their 
only serious occupations, and all the drudgery of life do- 
volves upon the squaws. Smith gave high offence to the 
warriors by taking a hoe into his hands, and working with 
the squaws for half an hour, at a time when they were 
engaged in planting corn. They reprimanded him with 
some severity for his industry, observing, that it was de- 
grading to a warrior to be engaged in labor like a squaw; 
and for the future he must learn to demean himself more 
loftily, always remembering that he was a member of a 
warlike tribe, and a noble family. 

They are remarkably hospitable, always offering to a 
stranger the best that they have. If a warrior, upon en* 
tering a strange wigwam, is not immediately invited to 
eat, he considers himself deeply affronted, although he 
may have just risen from a meal at home. It is not enough 
Oil these occasions that ordinary food, such as venison or 
hommony, is offered. It is thought rude and churlish, not 
to set before their guest their greatest delicacies, such as 
sugar, bear's oil, honey, and if they have it, rum. If there 
is no food of any kind in the house, which is often the 
case, the fact is instantly mentioned, and is at once ac- 
cepted as a sufficient apology. Smith was so unfortunate 
as to incur some reproach upon this subject also. While 
he and his adopted brother, Tontileaugo, were encamped 
in the woods, hunting, tlasr© oune a hunter of the Wyan- 



JAMES SMITH. 21 

dott tribe* who entered their camp, faint and hungry, hav- 
ing had no success in hunting, and consequently, having 
fasted for several days. 

Tontileaugo was absent at the time, but Smith received 
the visitor v/ith great hospitality, ^as he thought,) and gave 
him an abundant meal of hommony and venison. Shortly 
after the Wyandott's departure, his brother, TontileaugOy 
returned, and Smith informed him of the visit of the stran- 
ger, and of his hospitable reception. Tontileaugo listened 
with gravity, and replied : ^- And I suppose, of course, you 
brought up some of the sugar and bear's oil, which was 
left below in the canoe?" "No," replied Smith, "I neve? 
thought of it ; it was at too great a distance." " Welly 
brother," replied Tontileaugo, "you have behaved just 
like a Dutchman I I can excuse it in you for this time, as 
you are young, and have been brought up among the white 
people ; but you must learn to behave like a warrior, and 
never be caught in such little actions ! Great actions^ 
alone, can ever make a great man !^' 

Their power of sustaining long continued fatigue is as 
extraordinary. Even their squav/s will travel as fast as 
an ordinary horse, and pack an incredible quantity of 
baggage upon their backs. In the spring of 1756, a great 
quantity of game had been killed, at a considerable dis- 
tance from the village ; and all the inhabitants, including 
squaws and boys, turned out to bring it home. Smith was 
loaded with a large piece of buffalo, w hich, after packing 
two or three miles, he found too heavy for him, and was 
compelled to throw it down. One of the squaws laughed 
heartily, and coming up, relieved him of a large part of 
it, adding it to her own pack, which before, was equal to 
Smith's. This, he says, stimulated him to greater exer* 
tion than the severest punishment would have done. 

Their warriors, for a short distance, are not swifter than 
the whites, but are capable of sustaining the exercise for 
an incredible length of time. An Indian warrior can run 
for twelve or fourteen hours without refreshment, and 
after a hasty meal, and very brief repose, appear con>» 
pletely refreshed, and ready for a second course. Smith 
found it more difficult to compete with them in this re- 



2^ Western adventure. 

spect, than in any other. For although he ran with great 
swiftness for a few miles, he could not continue such 
violent exertion for a whole day. While he and his brother 
TontileaugOj were encamped at a distance from the others, 
they were much distressed from having to pack their meat 
from such a distance, and as three horses were constantly 
grazing near them, (for there was grass under the snow,) 
Tontileaugo proposed that they should run them down, 
and catch them, it having been found impossible to take 
them in any other way. 

Smith, having but little relish for the undertaking, 
urged the impossibility of success. But Tontileaugo re- 
plied, that he had frequently run down bear^ deer, elk, and 
buffalo, and believed, that in the course of a day and 
night, he could run down hnj four*footed animal, except 
the wolf. Smith observed, that, although deer were 
swifter than horses for a short distance, yet, that a horse 
could run much longer than either the elk or buffalo, and 
that he was confident that they would tire themselves to 
no purpose. The other insisted upon making the expe- 
riment, at any rate ; and at daylight, on a cold day in 
February, and on a hard snov/ several inches deep, the 
race began. The two hunters stripped themselves to 
their moccasons, and started at full speed. The horses 
were in high order, and very wild, but contented them- 
selves with running in a circle of six or seven miles cir 
cumference, and would not entirely abandon their usual 
grazing ground. 

At ten o'clock. Smith had dropped considerably astern, 
and before eleven, Tontileaugo and the horses were out 
o£ sight ; the Indian keeping close at their heels, and al- 
lowing them no time for rest. Smith, naked as he was, 
and glowing with exercise, threw himself upon the hard 
snow^,- and having cooled himself in this manner, he re- 
mained stationary until three o'clock in the evening, when 
the horses again came in view, their flanks smoking like 
a seething kettle, and Tontileaugo close behind them, 
running with undiminished speed. Smith being now per- 
fectly fresh, struck in ahead of Tontileaugo, and compelled 
tho horses to quicken their speed, while his Indian brother 



JAMES SMITH. 23 

from behind, encouraged him to do his utmost, after shout- 
ing "chako! chokoa-nough ! " (pull away! pull away, 
my boy!) 

Had Tontileaugo thought of resting, and committed the 
chase to Smith alone, for some hours, and then in his turn 
relieved him, they might have succeeded; but neglecting 
this plan, they both continued the chase until dark, when, 
perceiving that the horses ran still with great vigor, they 
despaired of success, and returned to the camp, having 
tasted nothing since morning, and one of them at least, 
having run nearly one hundred miles. Tontileaugo was 
somewhat crest-fallen at the result of the race, and grum- 
bled not a little at their long wind ; but Smith assured him 
that they had attempted an impossibility, and he became 
reconciled to their defeat. 

Their discipline, v/ith regard to their children, is not 
remarkably strict. Whipping is rare with them, and is 
considered the most disgraceful of all punishments. 
Ducking in cold water, is the ordinary punishment of mis- 
behavior; and as might be expected, their children are 
more obedient in winter than in summer. Smith, during 
his first v/inter's residence among them, was an eye wit- 
ness to a circumstance, which we shall relate as a lively 
example of Indian manners. His brother, Tontileaugo, 
was married to a Wyandott squaw, who had had several 
children by a former husband. One of these children of- 
fended his step-father in some way, who, in requital, gave 
him the " strappado," with a whip made of buffalo hide. 

The discipline was quite moderate, but the lad shout- 
ed very loudly, and soon brought out his Wyandott mother. 
She instantly took her child's part with great animation. 
It was in vain that the husband explained the offence, and 
urged the moderation with >vhich he had inflicted the pua- 
ishment. All would not do. "The child, she said, was 
no slave, to be beaten and scourged with a whip. His 
father had been a warrior, and a Wyandott, and his child 
was entitled to honorable usage. If he had offended his 
step-father, there was cold water enough to be had; let 
him be ducked until he would be brought to reason, aad 
she would not utter a word of complaint; but a 'buffalo 



24 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

tug^ was no weapon with which the son of a warrior ought 
to be struck: his father's spirit was frowning in the skies 
at the degra^dation of his child." 

Tontileaugo listened with great cahnness to this indig- 
nant remonstrance; and having lit his pipe, strolled off, in 
order to give his squaw an opportunity of becoming cool. 
The offence however had been of too serious a nature, 
and his squaw, shortly after his departure, caught a horse, 
and taking her children with her, rode off to the Wyandott 
village, about forty miles distant. In the afternoon, Ton- 
tileaugo returned to his wigwam, and found no one there 
but Smith, an old man, and a boy. He appeared much 
troubled at his squaw's refractory conduct, uttered some 
deep interjections; but finally did as most husbands are 
compelled to do-— followed her to make his peace. 

They are remarkably superstitious, and hold their 
^^ conjurers '' in great veneration. These dignitaries are 
generally old and decrepid. On the borders of. Lake 
Erie, one evening a squaw came running into camp, 
where Smith, Tontileaugo, and a few others were repos- 
ing, after a long day's journey, and alarmed them with 
the information, that two strange Indians, armed with ri- 
fles, were standing upon the opposite shore of a small 
creek, and appeared to be reconnoitering the camp. It 
was supposed they were Johnston Mohawks, and that they 
would shortly be attacked. Instantly the women and 
children were sent into the woods, and the warriors retir- 
ed from the light of the fires, taking their stations silently 
in the dark, and awaiting the enemy's approach. 

Manetohcoa, their old conjurer, alone remained by the 
fire, regardless of the danger, and busily employed in his 
necromantic art. To assist him in his labors, he had dy- 
ed feathers, the shoulder blade of a wildcat, and a large 
quantity of leaf tobacco. Thus accoutered, he conjured 
away, with great industry, in the light of the fire, and ex- 
posed to the most imminent danger, in case of an attack, as 
he was very lame, totally deaf, and miserably rheumatic. 
After a few minutes anxious expectation, old Manetohcoa 
called aloud upon his friends to return to the fire, assuring 
tbem that there was no danger. They instantly obeyed, 



JAMES SMITH. 25 

with the utmost confidence, and their sqiiav>^s and chil- 
dren were recalled, as if no farther danger was to be 
apprehended. Upon coming up, they found old Mane- 
tohcoa enveloped in tobacco smoke, and holding the bone 
of the wildcat in his hand, upon which his eyes were fix* 
ed with great earnestness. 

He told them, after having burnt his feathers, fumiga 
ted himself with the tobacco, heated his blade bone, and 
pronounced his charm, that he expected to see a multitude 
of Mohawks arise upon the surface of the bone; but to 
his surprise, he saw only the figures of two v/olves! He 
assured them that the w^oman had mistaken the wolves for 
Mohawks; and that no enemy was near them. The In- 
dians instantly composed themselves to rest, relying con- 
fidently upon the truth of the old man's assertions. In 
the morning, to Smith's astonishment, the tracks of two 
wolves were seen at the spot, where the squaw's account 
had placed the Mohav/ks. The Indians expressed no 
surprise at this extraordinary confirmation of the old 
man's skill in divination ; but Smith's infidelity was pow- 
erfully shaken! Admitting the truth of the facts, (and 
from Colonel Smith's high reputation for piety and integ- 
rity, we presume they cannot be questioned,) it must be 
acknowledged, either an extraordinary instance of saga- 
city, or else we must class it among those numerous fortu- 
nate circumstances, w^hich occasionally have staggered 
the faith of much more learned men than Colonel Smith. 
Johnson's superstition is well known; and Smith's doubts 
may at least be pardoned. 

Their military principles are few and simple, but re- 
markable for sagacity, and singularly adapted to the 
character of the v/arfare in which they are generally en- 
gaged. Caution, perhaps, rather than boldness, is the 
leading feature of their system. To destroy their ene- 
my, at the least possible risk to themselves, is their great 
object. They are by no means, as has been sometimes 
supposed, destitute of discipline. Their manoeuvres are 
few, but in performing them, they are peculiarly alert, 
ready, and intelligent. In fDrming a line, in protecting 
their flanks, by bodies arranged " en potence," or in form- 



;^ WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ing a large hollow square, for the purpose of making head 
against a superior force, they are inferior to no troops in 
the world. Each movement is indicated by a loud whoop, 
of peculiar intonation, from their leader, and is irregular 
ly, but rapidly obeyed. The result is order; although 
during the progress of the movement, the utmost apparent 
confusion prevails. 

Nothing astonished them more, than the pertinacity 
with which Braddock adhered to European tactics, in the 
celebrated battle on the banks of the Monongahela. They 
often assured Smith that the long knives were fools : that 
they could neither fight nor run away, but drew themselves 
up in close order, and stood still, as if to give their ene- 
mies the best possible opportunity of shooting them down 
at their leisure. Grant's masquerade before the walls of 
fort Du Quesne, also gave them much perplexity. A 
venerable Caughnewaughga chief, who had, in his youth, 
been a renowned warrior and counsellor, and who excell- 
ed all his cotemporaries in sagacity and benevolence, 
frequently told Smith, that Grant's conduct was to him 
totally inexplicable. 

This general formed the advance of General Forbes in 
1777. He marched with great secrecy and celerity through 
the woods, and appeared upon the hill above Du Quesne 
in the night. There he encamped, and by way of brava- 
do, caused the drums to beat, and the bagpipes to play, as 
if k) inform the enemy of his arrival. At daylight, he 
was surrounded by Indians, who creeping up, under cover 
of bushes, gullies, &c., nearly annihilated his army with- 
out any sensible loss to themselves. The old chief 
observed, " that as the great art of war consisted in am- 
bushing and surprising your enemy, and preventing 
yourself from being surprised, that Grant had acted like 
a skilful warrior in coming secretly upon them; but that 
his subsequent conduct in giving the alarm to his enemy, 
instead of falling upon him with the bayonet, was very 
extraordinary ; that he could only account for it, by sup- 
posing that Grant, like too many other warriors, was fond 
of rum, and had become drunk about daylight." 

They have the most sovereign contempt for all book 



JAMES SMITH. 27 

learning! Smith was occasionally in the habit of read- 
ing a few elementary English books, which he had procured 
from traders, and lost credit among them by his fondness 
for study. 

Nothing, with them, can atone for a practical ignorance 
of the woods. We have seen, that, for losing himself. 
Smith was degraded from the rank of a warrior, and re- 
duced to that of a boy. Two years afterwards, he 
regained his rank, and was presented with a rifle, as a 
reward for an exhibition of hardihood and presence of 
mind. In company with the old chief, to whom we have 
just referred, and several other Indians, he was engaged 
in hunting. A deep snow was upon the ground, and the 
weather was tempestuous. On their way home, a num- 
ber of raccoon tracks were seen in the snow, and Smith 
was directed to follow them, and observe where they treed. 
He did so, but they led him off to a much greater dis- 
tance than was supposed, and the hunters v/ere several 
miles ahead of him, when he attempted to rejoin them. 

x\t first their tracks were very plain in the snow, and 
although night approached, and the camp was distant, 
Smith felt no anxiety. But about dusk, his situation be- 
came critical. The weather became suddenly much 
colder, the wind blew a perfect hurricane, and whirlwinds- 
of snow blinded his eyes, and filled up the tracks of his 
companions. He had with him neither a gun, flint, nor 
steel ; no shelter but a blanket, and no weapon but a tom- 
ahawk. He plodded on for several hours, ignorant of his 
route, stumbling over logs, and chilled with cold, until the 
snow became so deep, as seriously to impede his progress, 
and the flakes fell so thick, as to render it impossible to 
fflOe where he was going. He shouted aloud for help, but 
no answer was returned, and as the storm every instant 
becaii^e more outrageous, he began to think that his hour 
had come. 

Providentially, in stumbling on through the snow, he 
came to a large sycamore, with a considerable opening on 
the windward side. He hastily crept in and found the 
hollow sufliciently large to accommodate him for the night, 
i£ the weather side could be closed so as to exclude the 



tB WESTERN ADVEISTUR^. 

snow and wind, which was beating against it with grealt 
violence. He instantly went to work with his tomahawk 
and cut a number of sticks, which he placed upright 
against the holcj and piled brush against it in great quan- 
tities, leaving a space open for himself to creep in. He 
then broke up a decayed log, and cutting it into small 
pieces, pushed them one by one into the hollov/ of the 
tree, and lastly, crept in himself. With these pieces, he 
stopped up the remaining holes of his den, until not a 
chink was left to admit the light. The snow, drifting in 
large quantities, was soon banked up against his defen- 
ces, and completely sheltered him from the storm, which 
still continued to rage with undiminished fury. He then 
danced violently in the center of his den for two hours, 
until he was sufficiently warmed, and wrapping himself 
in his blanket, he slept soundly until morning. 

He a.woke in utter darkness, and groping about, he 
found his door and attempted to push it away, but the 
snow had drifted against it in such quantitieSj that it re- 
sisted his utmost efforts. His hair now began to bristle, 
and he feared that he had, with great ingenuity, contrived 
to bury himself alive. He laid down again for several 
hours, meditating upon what he should do, and whether he 
should not attempt to cut through the tree with his 
tomahawk; but at length he made one more desperate ef- 
fort to push away the door, and succeeded in moving it 
several inches, when a great bank of snow fell in upon 
him from above, convincing him at once of the immense 
quantity which had fallen. He at length burrowed his 
way into the upper air, and found it broad day light, and 
the weather calm and mild. The snow lay nearly four 
feet deep; but he was now enabled to see his way clear- 
ly, and by examining the barks of the trees, was enabled 
to return to camp. 

He was received with loud shouts of joy and congratu- 
lation, but not a single question was asked until he had 
despatched a hearty meal of venison, hommony, and sugar. 

The old chief, Tecaughnetanego, whom we have already 
mentioned, then presented him with his own pipe, and they 
all remained silent until Smith had smoked. When they 



JAMES SMITH. 29 

saw him completely refreshed, the venerable chief ad- 
dressed him in a mild and affectionate manner, (for Smith 
at that time, v/as a mere boy with them,) and desired to 
hear a particular account of the manner in which he had 
passed the night. Not a word was spoken until Smith 
concluded his story, and then he was greeted on all sides 
with shouts of approbation. 

Tecaughnetanego arose and addressed him in a short 
speech, in which his courage, hardihood, and presence of 
mind, were highly commended. He was exhorted to go 
on as he had begun, and assured, that one day he would 
make a very great manj that all his brothers rejoiced in 
his safety, as much as they had lamented his supposed 
death; that they were preparing snow shoes to go in search 
of him when he appeared; but as he had been brought up 
effeminately among the whites^ they never expected ta 
see him alive, la conclusionj he was promoted from the 
rank of a boy to that of a warrior, and assured, that when 
they sold skins in the spring, at Detroit, they would pur- 
chase for him a new rifle. And they faithfully obs^erved 
their promise. 

They are extravagantly fond of rum;; but driii^kii^g does 
not with them, as with the whites^ form a part of the reg- 
ular business of life. They occasionally indulge in a 
wild and frantic revel, which sometimes lasts several days, 
and then return to their ordinary habits. They cannot 
husband their liquor^ for the sake of prolonging the pleas- 
ure of toping. It is used with the most reckless profu- 
sion while it lasts, and all drink to beastly intoxication. 
Their squav/s are as fond of liquor as the warriors, and 
share in all their excesses. 

After the party to which Smith belonged, had sold their 
beaver skins, and provided themselves with ammunition 
and blankets, all their surplus cash was expended in rum, 
which was bought by the keg. They then held a coun- 
cil, in which a few strong bodied hunters were selected 
to remain sober, and protect the rest during the revel, for 
which they were preparing. Smith was courteously in- 
vited to get drunk, but upon his refusal, he was told that he 
must then join the sober party, aad assist in keeping order. 



80 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

This, as he quickly found, was an extremely dangerous 
office; but before engaging in the serious business of 
drinking, the warriors carefully removed their tomahawks 
and knives, and took every precaution against bloodsheds 
A shocking scene then conmienced. Rum was swallowed 
in inmiense quantities, and their wild passions were stim- 
ulated to frenzy! Smith and the sober party, were ex- 
posed to the most imminent peril, and were compelled to 
risk their lives every moment. Much injury was done, 
but no lives were lost. 

In the Ottawa camp, where the same infernal orgies 
were celebrated, the result was more tragical. Several 
warriors were killed on the spot, and a number moi:e 
wounded. So long as they had money, the revel was 
kept up day and night, but when their funds were ex- 
hausted, they gathered up their dead and wounded, and 
with dejected countenances, returned to the wilderness. 
All had some cause of lamentation. The blanket of one 
had been burnt, and he had no money to buy another; the 
fine clothes of another had been torn from his back; some 
had been maimed; and all had improvidently wasted thek 
money. 

The religion of the Indians, although defaced by super- 
stition, and intermingled with many rites and notions 
which to us appear absurd, contains, nevertheless, a dis- 
tinct acknowledgment of the existence of a Supreme Be- 
ing, and a future state. The various tribes are represent- 
ed by Dr. Robertson as poly theists -^ and Mr. Hume con- 
siders polytheism as inseparably attendant upon the sav- 
age state. It appears, however, that the western Indians 
tfcpproached more nearly to simple deism^ than most savage 
nations with whom we have been heretofore acquainted* 
One ^reat Spirit is universally worshipped throughout 
the West; although different tribes give him different 
names. In the immense prairies of the West, he is gen- 
erally termed the Wahcondah, or master of life. With 
the Indians of the lakes, he was generally termed Manit- 
to, which we believe means simply "The Spirit!" In 
the language of Smith's tribe he was known by the title 
of "Owaneeyo," or the possessor of all things. 



JAMES SMlth. 31 

Human sacrifices are very common among the tribes 
living west of the Mississippi; but I have seen no evi- 
dence of such a custom among those of the North- vi^esti 

Tecaughnetanego, the veteran chief whom we have aU 
ready mentioned, was esteemed the wisest and most 
venerable of his own nation; and his religious opinions, 
perhaps, may be regarded as a very favorable sample of 
Indian theology. We shall take the liberty of detailing 
several conversations of this old chief, particularly upon 
religious subjects, which to us, were the most interesting 
passages of Smith's diary; growing, as they did, out of 
a situation, which required the exercise of some philoso- 
phy, and reliance upon Providence, We have ?Jready 
adverted to the precarious nature of the Indian supplies, 
of food, dependant as they are, upon the woods for tkeir 
meat, and liable to frequent failures from the state of the 
weather, and other circumstances over which they have 
no control. 

It so happened that Smith, together with Tontileau» 
go and the old chief, Tecaughnetanego, were encamp- 
ed at a great distance from the rest of the tribe, and 
during the early part of the winter, they were very suc- 
cessful in hunting, and were abundantly supplied with all 
necessaries. Upon the breach between Tontileaugo and 
his wife, however. Smith and the old chief were left in 
the woods, with no other company than that of Nungany^, 
a little son of the latter, not more than ten yeai*s old. 
Tecaughnetanego, notwithstanding his age, (which ex- 
ceeded sixty,) was still a skilful hunter, and capable of 
great exertion when in good health; but, unfortunately, 
was subject to dreadful attacks of rheumatism, during 
which, in addition to the most excruciating pain, he was 
incapable of moving his limbs, or helping himself in any 
way. Smith was but a young hunter, and Nungany to- 
tally useless except as a cook; but while Tecaughnetanego 
retained the use of his limbs, notwithstanding the loss of 
Tontileaugo, they killed game very abundantly. 

About the middle of January, however, the weather be- 
came excessively cold, and tha old chief was stretched 
upon the floor of his wigwam, totally unable to move^ 



a2 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

The whole care of the family now devolved upon Smith, 
and his exertions were not wanting. But from his youth 
and inexperience, he was unable to provide as plentifully 
as Tontileaugo had done, and they were reduced to very 
short allowance. The old chief, notwithstanding the ex- 
cruciating pain which he daily suffered, always strove to 
entertain Smith, at night, with agreeable conversation, 
and instructed him carefully and repeatedly in the art of 
/lunting. At length the snow became hard and crusty, 
and the noise of Smith's footsteps frightened the deer, so 
that, with the utmost caution he could use, he was unable 
to get within gunshot. The family, in consequence, were 
upon the eve of starvation. 

One evening. Smith entered the hut, faint and weary, 
after a hunt of two days, during which he had eaten noth 
ing. Tecaughnetanego had fasted for the same length 
of time, and both had been upon short allowance for a 
week. Smith came in very moodily, and laying aside his 
gun and powder horn, sat down by the fire in silence. Te- 
caughnetanego inquired mildly and calmly, what success 
he had had. Smith answered that they must starve, as 
the deer were so wild that he could not get within gunshot, 
and it was too far to go to any Indian settlement for food. 
The old man remained silent for a moment, and then in 
tiie same mild tone, asked him if he was hungry ? Smith 
replied, that the keen appetite seemed gone, but that he 
felt sick and dizzy, and scarcely able to walk. '^ I have 
made Nungany hunt up some food for you, brother," said 
the old man kindly, and bade him produce it. This food 
was nothing more than the bones of a fox and wildcat, 
which had been thrown into the woods a few days before 
and which the buzzards had already picked almost bare. 

Nungany had collected and boiled them, until the sin 
ews were stripped of the flesh, intending them for himself 
and father, both of whom were nearly famished j but the 
old man had put them away for Smith, in case he should 
again return without food. Smith quickly threw himself 
upon this savoury soup, and swallowed spoonful after spoon 
ful, with the voracity of a wolf. Tecaughnetanego waited 
patiently until he had finished his meal, which continued 



JAMES SMITH. 33 

antii the last spoonful had been swallowed, and then 
handing him his own pipe, invited him to smoke. Little 
Nungany, in the mean time, removed the kettle, after 
looking in vain for some remnant of the feast for his own 
supper. He had watched every mouthful which Smith 
swallowed with eager longing, but in perfect silence, and 
tinding, that for the third night, he must remain supper • 
less, he sat down quietly at his father's feet, and was soon 
asleep. 

Tecaughnetanego, as soon as Smith had smoked, asked 
him if he felt refreshed ; and upon receiving an animated 
assurance in the affirmative, he addressed him mildly as 
follows : "I saw, my brother, when you first came in, that 
you had been unfortunate in hunting, and were ready to 
despair. I should have spoken at the time, v/hat I am 
now about to say, but I have always observed, that hun^ 
gry people are not in a temper to listen to reason. You 
are now refreshed, and can listen patiently to the words 
of your elder brother. I was once young like you, but 
am now old. I have seen sixty snows fall, and have often 
been in a worse condition, from w^ant of food, than we 
now are J yet I have always been supplied, and that, too, 
at the very time when I was ready to despair. Brother: 
you have been brought up among the whites, and have 
not had the same opportunities of seeing how wonderful- 
ly Owaneeyo provides food for his children in the woods! 
He sometimes lets them be in great want, to teach them 
that they are dependant upon him, and to remind them of 
their own weakness; but he never permits them absolutely 
to perish. Rest assured that your brother is telling you 
no lie; but be satisfied that he will do as I have told you. 
Go now: sleep soundly; rise early in the morning and go 
out to hunt; be strong and diligent; do your best, and trust 
to Owaneeyo for the rest.'' 

When we recollect that this admirable speech came 
from a wild Indian, totally uninstructed, and untaught to 
restrain his passions ; that at the very time, he was suffep- 
ing the most excruciating pain, both from disease and hunr 
ger; that he had denied himself a morsel of food, in orddir 
to bestow it upon Smith; and, lastly^ that from the state of 



34 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

the snow and Smith's inexperience, he had no human pros- 
pect of relief; it is no exaggeration to say, that a more 
striking example of wisdom, mildness, and magnanimity, 
was never exhibited. 

Smith was powerfully struck by the old man's reason- 
ing; and still more affected by the patience and firmness 
with which he sustained himself, under the complicated 
suffering with which he was visited. In the morning, at 
daylight, he seized his gun, and commenced the duties of 
the day with great spirit. He saw a great many deer, 
but the crashing of the crust alarmed them as heretofore; 
and after hunting until noon without success, he began to 
suspect that Tecaughnetanego must have been mistaken, 
and that they were certainly destined to starve. His 
hunger seemed rather whetted than allayed by his sump- 
tuous repast upon wildcat bones, the evening before, and 
now became so ravenous as to divest him of all reason, 
and he determined to run back to Pennsylvania. True, 
the intervening country was crowded with hostile Indians, 
but the edge of the tomahawk was not keener than that 
of hunger; and a sharp and quick death, infinitely prefer- 
rable to the slow and torturing ravages of starvation. 

Having hastily adopted this desperate resolution, he 
quickened his pace, and moved off steadily in the direction 
of Pennsylvania. He had not gone more than seven or 
eight miles, before he heard the lowing of buffalo in front, 
und in a few minutes, came in view of a noble herd, march- 
ing leisurely ahead of him. He ran with great rapidity 
in such a direction as to head them, and concealing himself 
in a thicket, awaited their approach. They passed leisurely 
within a few yards of him, so that he had an opportunity 
of selecting a fat heifer, which he killed at the first 
fire. He quickly struck fire from his flint — and cutting 
a few slices from the fleshiest part, he laid it upon the 
coals, but could not wait until it was done. After gorg- 
ing himself with raw beef, which (with the exception of 
the wildcat bones of the preceding night,) he thought the 
most delicious food he had ever tasted, he began to be 
tenderly concerned for the old man and little boy, whom 
be bad left in a famishing condition, at the wigwam. 



JAMES SMITH. ^ 

His conscience reproached him for leaving them to per- 
ishj and he instantly loaded himself heavily with the fat- 
test and fleshiest pieces, and having secured the rest from 
the wolves, returned to their camp, with as much expedi- 
tion as he. could exert. It was late at night when he en- 
tered the wigwam. Tecaughnetanego received him with 
the same mild equanimity which had heretofore distin- 
guished him, and thanked him very affectionately for the 
exertions which he had used, while the eyes of the fam- 
ished boy were fastened upon the beef as if he would de- 
vour it raw. His father ordered him to hang on the ket- 
tle and cook some beef for them all j but Smith declared 
that he himself would cook for the old man, while Nun- 
gany broiled some meat upon the coals for himself. The 
boy looked eagerly at his father for his consent, and re- 
ceiving a nod in reply, he sprung upon the meat as a kite 
would pounce upon a pullet, and unable to wait for the 
slow operation of the fire, began to eat it raw. 

Smith in the mean time had cut several very thin slices 
and placed them in the kettle to boil; but supposing Te- 
caughnetanego as impatient as himself, he was about to 
take it off the fire after a very few minutes, when the old 
man, in a tone as calm and quiet as if he had not fasted 
fcr three whole days, desired him to "let it be done 
enough." At the same time he ordered Nungany, who 
was still eating like a shark, to take no more at present, 
but to sit down J and after a few minutes he might sup a 
little broth. The old man then reminded Smith of their 
conversation the night before ; and of the striking truth 
with which his assurance of Owaneeyo's goodness had 
been accomplished. At length he desired Smith to give 
him the beef, observing that it had been boiled enough; 
and, as if he had reserved all his vigor for that moment, 
he assaulted it with a keenness and perseverance, which 
showed that the gifts of Owaneeyo were not thrown away 

In the morning, Tecaughnetanego requested Smith to 
return to the spot where he had killed the buffalo, and 
bring in the rest of it to camp. He accordingly took 
down his rifle and entered the wood, intending to 
hunt on the road. At the distance of a few miles from 



^6 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

camp, he saw a large elm, which had been much scratched, 
and perct;iVing a hole in it at the distance of forty feet 
from the ground, he supposed that a bear had selected it 
for his winter quarters, and instantly determined to rouse 
him from his slumbers. With his tomahawk, he cut down 
a sapling which grew near the tree, in such a manner a& 
to lodge it against the den. He then cut a long pole, 
and tied a few bunches of rotten wood to the end of it. 
Taking it then in his hand, he climbed the sapling, until 
he reached the mouth of the den, and setting fire to the 
rotten wood, put it into the hollow as far as he could 
reach. He soon had the gratification of hearing poor 
Bruin sneeze and cough, as if in great trouble; and rap- 
idly sliding down the sapling, he seized his gun at the 
moment the bear showed himself. He instantly shot him, 
and having loaded himself with the hind quarters, he 
marched back in high spirits to the wigwam. They were 
now well provided for a week; and in a few days the 
snow thawed so much as to enable him to kill deer; so 
that during the rest of the winter, they fared sumptuoush/. 

Early in April, Tecaughnetanego's rheumatism abated 
so much as to permit him to v^alk, upon which, they all 
three built a bark canoe, and descended the Ollentangyj 
until the water became so shallow as to endanger their 
frail bark among the rocks. A council was then held, in 
which Tecaughnetanego proposed to go ashore, and pray 
for rain to raise the creek or river so as to enable them 
to continue their journey. Smith readily consented, and 
they accordingly disembarked, drawing their canoe ashore 
after them. Here the old Indian built a "sweating 
house,'^ in order to purify himself, before engaging in hig 
religious duties. 

He stuck a number of semicircular hoops in the ground, 
and laid a blanket ov^r them. He then heated .a number 
of large stones, and placed them under the blanket, and 
finally crawled in himself, with a kettle of water in his 
hand, directing Smith to draw down the blanket after him, 
80 as almost entirely to exclude the external air. He 
then poured the water upon the hot stones, and began to 
fiiog aloud wilk great energy, the steam rising from th^ 



JAxMES SMITH. g7 

blanket like a heavy mist. In this hot place he continued 
for Mteen minutes, singing tlie whole time, and then came 
out dripping with perspiration from iiead to foot. As soon 
as he had taken breath, he began to burn tobacco, throw- 
ing it into the fire by handfuls, and at the same time re- 
peating the following v/ords in a tone of deep and solemn 
earnestness : 

"Oh Great Owanee^/ol I thank thee that I have re- 
gained the use of my legs once more; that I am now able 
to walk about and kill turkeys, without feeling exquisite 
pain. Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that my knees and ankles 
may be right well, that I may be able not onrv' to v/alk, 
but to run and to jump logs, as I did last fall! Oh! ho! 
ho! ho! Grant that, upon this voyage we may frequently 
kill bears as they may be crossing the Sandusky and Sci- 
oto ! Oh ! ho ! ho ! ho ! Grant that v»' e ma^v also kill a few 
turkeys to stew with our beards meat! Oh! ho! ho! ho! 
Grant that rain may come to raise the Ollentangy a fev/ 
feet, that we may cross in safety down to Scioto, v/ith- 
out splitting our canoe upon the rocks. And no v/, O 
Great Owaneeyo! thou knowest how fond I am of tobacco, 
and though I do not know when I shall get any more, yet 
you see that I have freely given up all I have for a burnt- 
offering; therefore, I expect that thou wilt be merciful 
and hear all my petitions; and I, thy servant, will thank 
thee, and love thee for all thy gifts.'' 

Smith held the old chief in great veneration, and has 
observed, that he never in his life listened to a man v/ho 
reasoned more clearly and powerfully upon such subjects 
as came before him; and he heard the first part of his 
prayer with great respect and due graYiiy; but when the 
attention of Owaneeyo was called to the tobacco, which 
his votary bestov/ed upon him. so liberally, his muscles 
gave way, and in spite of his efibrts to restrain himself, 
he burst into a low and half stifled laugh. Ridicule is at 
all times formidable, but particularly so in a moment of 
enthusiasm and sincere devotion. Tecaughnetanego Vv'as 
deeply and seriously offended, and rebuked his young 
companion in the following words : 

"Brother, I have somewhat to say to you! When you 

D 



38 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

were reading your books in our village, you know I would 
not let the boys plague you, or laugh at you, although we 
all thought it a foolish and idle occupation in a warrior. 
I respected your feelings then; but just now I saw you 
laughing at me! Brother, I do not believe that you look 
upon praying as a silly custom, for you sometimes pray 
yourself. Perhaps you think my mode of praying foolish, 
but if so, would it not be more friendly to reason with me, 
and instruct me, than to sit on that log and laugh at an 
old man?'' 

Smith apologized with great earnestness, declaring that 
he respected and loved him sincerely, but that when he 
saw him throw the last of his tobacco into the fire, and 
recollected how fond he was of it, he could not help smil- 
ing a little, although for the future he would never have 
reason to complain of him on that account. The old man, 
without saying a word, handed him his pipe as a token of 
friendship, although it was filled only with willow bark ^ 
and the little difference was soon forgotten. 

Smith then explained to him the outlines of the Chris- 
tian religion, and dwelt particularly upon the doctrine of 
reconciliation through the atonement of Christ. Tecaugh- 
netanego listened with patience and gravity until his 
companion had ended his remarks, and then calmly observ- 
ed, that "it might he soP'^ He even acknowledged, " that 
it did not appear so absurd, as the doctrine of the Romish 
priests, which he had heard at Detroit, but declared that 
he was too old now to change his religion ; that he should, 
therefore, continue to worship God after the manner of 
his fathers ; and if it was not consistent with the honor 
of the Great Spirit to accept of him in that way, then he 
hoped that he would receive him upon such terms as were 
acceptable to him ; that it was his earnest and sincere de- 
sire to worship the Great Spirit, and obey his wishes ; and 
he hoped that Owaneeyo would overlook such faults as 
arose from ignorance and weakness, not willful neglect.'' 
To a speech of this kind, the sentiments of which find an 
echo in almost every breast. Smith could make no reply. 
Here, therefore, the subject ended. 

A few days afterward, there came a fine rain, and the 



JAMES SMITH. S9 

Olienlangy was soon sufnciently deep to admit of their 
passage in safety, and after reaching the Sandusky they 
killed four bears and a great many wild turkeys. Te- 
caughnetanego gravely assured Smith, that this was a 
clear and direct answer to his prayer, and inferred from 
it, that his religion could not be as unacceptable to Owanee- 
yo as Smith supposed. Perhaps it would be difficult to 
disprove the first part of the old Indian's observation : th 
last is more questionable. 

We have already gleaned all the most interesting parts 
of Smith's narrative, for the long details of huntings, 
trappings, and migrations, without particular object or in- 
cident, v/ould scarcely be interesting to the reader. We 
have endeavored to select such circumstances, as would 
give the general reader a lively idea of the habits and 
opinions of the western Indians, without burdening our 
narrative with too much detail. As most, if not all the 
subsequent adventures, v/ill have a close connection with 
Indian life, it was thought proper to commence with a 
narrative which should throv/ some light upon that subject. 
It is only necessary, further, to observe, that in the sum^ 
mer of 1759, and in the fourth year of his captivity or 
rather adoption, Smith, accompanied by Tecaughnetanego 
and Nungany, sailed in a bark canoe dovfn the St. Law- 
rence, as far as Montreal. 

Here he privately left his Indian companions, and went 
on board a French transport, which he had heard was about 
to sail, with a number of English prisoners on board, in- 
tended to be exchanged. After having been detained 
some time in Montreal, in consequence of the English 
fleet being below, he v»^as at length exchanged and return- 
ed to his native country. His family and sweetheart 
received him v/ith great joy; but to his inexpressible 
mortification, the latter had been married only a few days 
before his arrival. His subsequent adventures, although 
novel and interesting, do not properly come v/ithin the 
range of our present subject. We refer the reader, who 
may desire to know more, to Colonel Smith's own narra- 
tive, which has recently been reprinted by John Grigg 
of Philadelphia. 



40 WESTERX^ ADVENTURS. 



CHAPTER 11. 

The adventures 5 which in order of time^ should come 
next, are those of the celebrated Daniel Boone; for of 
FiNDLEY, said to be the iirst white man who ever visited 
Kentucky, nothing is known, but the simple fact that he 
fid! visit it, iirst alone, and afterwards in company with 
Boone. It is much to be regretted, that the materials for 
a sketch of Boone are so scanty. He has left us a brief 
account of his adventures, but they are rather such as 
one would require for the composition of an epitaph, than 
of a biography. The leading incidents are mentioned in 
a general way, and there are some gaudy and ambitious 
sketches of scenery which swell the bulk of the piece, 
without either pleasing the imagination or gratifying the 
curiosity. It would seem that the brief notes of the plain 
old woodsman, had been committed to some young sciolist 
in literature, who thought that Hashy description could 
atone for barrenness of incident. 

A general summary of remarkable events, neither ex- 
cites nor gratifies curiosity, like a minute detail of all the 
circumstances connected with them. This trait, so essen- 
tial to the interest of narratives, and of which perhaps 
the most splendid example in existence, has been given 
in Mr. Cooper's " Last of the Mohicans," is deplorably 
wanting in most of the materials to which v/e have haa 
access. A novelist may fill up the blank from his own 
imagination; but a v/riter who professes to adhere to truth, 
is fettered down to the record before him. If, therefore, 
in the following details, we should be found guilty of the 
unpardonable sin of dullness, we hope that at least a por- 
tion of the blame will fall upon the scantiness of the ma- 
terials. 

Of Mr. Boone's early youth, nothing is known. He 
has modestly forborne to say any thing of himself, except 
so far as he is connected with the settlement of Kentucky. 
He was born in Virginia; but instigated by that roving 
spirit which distinguished him throughout life, he emigra 



DAHIEL BOONE, 41 

ted at an early period to North Carolina, and iive^ mtil 
his fortieth year upon the banks of the Yadkin, in /67 
Findley returned from his adventurous journey^ and 
brought with him a report of a large tract of fertile coun- 
try, totally unoccupied, and abounding in every variety 
of game, from the beaver to the buffalo. To a man like 
Boone, fond of hunting, and naturally attached to a roving 
and adventurous life, such a scene presented irresistible 
charms. Accordingly, in 1769, he left his family upon 
the Yadkin, and in company with five others, of whom 
Findley was one, he moved in a v/estern direction, being 
determined to explore that country of v/hich he had heard 
so favorable an account. 

On the 7th of June they reached Red river, and from a 
neighboring eminence were enabled to survey the vast 
plain of Kentucky. Here they built a cabin, in order to 
afford them a shelter from the rain which had fallen in 
immense quantities on their march, and remained in a 
great measure stationary until December, killing a great 
quantity of game immediately around them. Immense 
herds of buffalo ranged through the forest in every direc- 
tion, feeding upon the leaves of the cane or the rich and 
spontaneous fields of clover. 

On the 22d of December, Boone and John Stuart, one 
of his companions, left their encampment, and follov>^ing 
one of the numerous paths which the buffalo had made 
through the cane, they plunged boldly into the interior of 
the forest. They had as yet seen no Indians, and the 
country had been reported as totally uninhabited. This 
was true in a strict sense, for although the southern and 
northwestern tribes were in the habit of hunting here as 
upon neutral ground, yet not a single wigwam had been 
erected, nor did the land bear the slightest mark of having 
ever been cultivated. The different tribes v/ould fall in with 
each other, and from the fierce conflicts which generally 
followed these casual rencounters, the country had been 
knov/n among them by the name of " the dark and bloody 
ground P^ The two adventurers soon learned the addi- 
tional danger to which they were exposed. While roving 
carelessly from canebrake to canebrake, and admirinjgf the 



43 WESTERN ADVENTURE^ 

rank growth of vegetation, and the variety of timber 
which marked the fertility of the soil, they were suddenly 
alarmed by the appearance of a party of Indians, who, 
springing from their place of concealment, rushed upon 
them with a rapidity which rendered escape impossible. 

They were almost instantly seized, disarmed, and made 
prisoners. Their feelings may be readily imagined. 
They were in the hands of an enemy who knew no alter- 
native between adoption and torture ; and the numbers and 
fleetness of their captors, rendered escape by open means 
impossible, while their jealous vigilance seemed equally 
fatal to any secret attempt. Boone, however, was pos^ 
sessed of a temper admirably adapted to the circumstan- 
ces in which he was placed. Of a cold and saturnine, 
rather than an ardent disposition, he was never either so 
much elevated by good fortune or depressed by bad, as to 
lose for an instant the full possession of all his faculties. 
He saw that immediate escape was impossible, but he 
encouraged his companion, and constrained himself to ac- 
company the Indians in all their excursions, with so calm 
and contented an air, that their vigilance insensibly be- 
gar io relax. 

On the seventh evening of their captivity, they en- 
camped in a thick canebrake, and having built a large 
fire, lay down to rest. The party whose duty it was to 
watch, were weary and negligent, and about midnight^ 
Boone, who had not closed an eye, ascertained from the 
deep breathing all around him, that the whole party, in- 
eluding Stuart, was in a deep sleep. Gently and gradu- 
ally extricating himself from the Indians who lay around 
him, he walked cautiously to the spot where Stuart lay, 
and having succeeded in awakening him, without alarming 
the rest, he briefly informed him of his determination, and 
exhorted him to arise, make no noise, and follow him. 
Stuart, although ignorant of the design, and suddenly 
roused from sleep, fortunately obeyed with equal silence 
and celerity, and within a few minutes they were beyond 
hearing. 

Rapidly traversing the forest, by the light of the stars 
and the barks of the trees, they ascertained the direction 



DANIEL BOONE. 43 

in which the camp lay, but upon reaching it on the next 
day, to their great grief, they found it plundered and de- 
serted, with nothing remaining to show the fate of their 
companions: and even to the day of his death, Boone 
knew not whether they had been killed or taken, or had 
voluntarily abandoned their cabin and returned. Here, 
in a few days, they were accidentally joined by Boone's 
brother and another man^ who had followed them from 
Carolina, and fortunately stumbled upon their camp. This 
accidental meeting in the bosom of a vast wilderness, 
gave great relief to the two brothers, although their joy 
was soon overcast. 

Boone and Stuart, in a second excursion, were again 
pursued by savages, and Stuart was shot and scalped, 
while Boone fortunately escaped. As usual, he has not 
mentioned particulars, but barely stated the event. Within 
a few days they sustained another calamity, if possible, still 
more distressing. Their only remaining companion was 
benighted in a hunting excursion, and while encamped in 
the woods alone, was attacked and devoured by the wolves. 

The two brothers v/ere thus left in the wilderness, alone, 
separated by several hundred miles from home, surround 
ed by hostile Indians, and destitute of every thing but 
their rifles. After having had such melancholy experi- 
ence of the dangers to v/hich they were exposed, we 
would naturally suppose that their fortitude would have 
given way, and that they would instantly have returned 
to the settlements. But the most remarkable feature in 
Boone's character, was a calm and cold equanimity which 
rarely rose to enthusiasm, and never sunk to despond- 
ence. 

His courage undervalued the danger to which he was 
exposed, and his presence of mind, v»^hich never forsook 
him, enabled him, on all occasions, to take the best means 
of avoiding it. The wilderness, with all its dangers and 
privations, had a charm for him, which is scarcely con- 
ceivable by one brought up in a city; and he determined 
to remain alone, while his brother returned to Carolina 
for an additional supply of ammunition, as their original 
supply was nearly exhausted. His situation we should 



44 WESTERN ADTEI^TURE. 

now suppose in the highest degree gloomy and dispiriting. 
The dangers which attended his brother on his return 
were nearly equal to his ov/n; and each had left a wife 
and children, which Boone acknowledged cost him many 
an anxious thought. 

But the wild and solitary grandeur of the country 
around him, where not a tree had been cut, nor a house 
erected, was to him an inexhaustible source of admiration 
and delight; and he says himself, that some of the most 
rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely 
rambles. The utmost caution was necessary to avoicJ 
the savages, ^^nd scarcely less to escape the ravenous 
hunger of the wolves that prowled nightly around him in 
immense numbers. He was compelled frequently to shift 
his lodging, and by undoubted signs, saw that the Indians 
had repeatedly visited his hut during his absence. He 
sometimes lay in canebrakes, without fire, and heard the 
yells of the Indians around him. Fortunately, however^ 
he never encountered them. 

On the 27th of July, 1770, his brother returned with a 
supply of ammunition 5 and with a hardihood, which ap- 
pears almost incredible, they ranged through the country 
in every direction, and without injury,, until March, 1771 , 
They then returned to North Carolina, where Daniel re- 
joined his family, after an absence of three years, during 
nearly the whole of which time he had never tasted bread 
or salt, nor seen the face of a single white man, with the 
exception of his brother, and the two friends who had 
been killed. He here determined to sell his farm, and 
remove, with his family, to the wilderness of Kentucky; 
an astonishing instance of hardihood, and we should even 
say indifference to his family, if it were not that his char- 
acter has uniformly been represented as mild and humane, 
as it 'was bold and fearless. ' 

Accordingly, on the 25th of September, 1771, having 
disposed of all the property which he could not take with 
him, he took leave of his friends and commenced his jour- 
ney to the west. A number of milch cows, and horses, 
laden with a few necessary household utensils, formed 
the whole of his baggage. His wife and children were 



©ANmL BOOMK. 45 

lAOunted on horseback and accompanied him, every one 
regarding them as devoted to destruction. In Powell's 
valley they were joined by five more families and forty 
men well armed. Encouraged by this accession of strength, 
the3/ advanced with additional confidence, but had soon a 
severe warning of the further dangers which awaited 
them, When near Cumberland mountain, their reat was 
suddenly attacked with great fury by a scouting party of 
Indians, and throv/n into considerable confusion. 

The party, hovrever, soon rallied, and being accustom- 
ed to Indian v/arfare, returned the fire with such spirit 
and effect, that the Indians were repulsed with slaughter. 
Their own loss, however, had been severe. Six men 
were killed upon the spot, and one v>^ounded. Am.ong the 
killed was Boone's eldest son, to the unspeakable afflic- 
tion of his family. The disorder and grief occasioned by 
this rough reception, seems to have afiected the emigrants 
deeply, as they instantly retraced their steps to the set- 
tlements on Clinch river, forty miles from the scene of 
action. Here they remained until June, 1774, probably 
at the request of the women, who must have been greatly 
alarmed at the prospect of plunging more deeply into a 
country, upon the skirts of which, they had witnessed so 
keen and bloody a conflict. 

At this time, Boone, at the request of Governor Dun- 
more, of Virginia, conducted a number of surveyors to the 
falls of Ohio, a distance of eight hundred miles. Of the 
incidents of this journey, we have no record whatever; 
After his return, he v/as engaged under Dunmore until 
1775 in several affairs v/ith the Indians, and at the solicit- 
ation of some gentlemen of North Carolina, he attended 
at a treaty with the Cherokees, for the purpose of pur- 
chasing the lands south of Kentucky river. With his 
usual brevity, Boone has omitted to infoiTQ us of the par- 
ticulars of this conference, or of the peculiar character of 
the business upon which he was sent. By the aid of Mr.. 
Marshall's valuable history, however, we are enabled to 
supply this silence, at least with regard to the latter cir 
cumstance. 

It seems that the Cherokees, living within the charter 



46 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ed limits of the state of North Carohna, claimed all the 
land south of the Kentucky as far as Tennessee river. 
That Colonel Richard Henderson and some other gentle- 
men, animated by the glowing description of the fertility 
of the soil, which Boone and his brother had given upon 
their return, determined to purchase the whole of this im- 
mense tract from the Cherokees, and employ Boone as 
their agent. The Cherokees gladly parted with an empty 
title, for a solid, although moderate recompense, and Hen- 
derson and his friends instantly prepared to take posses- 
sion, relying upon the validity of their deed from the In- 
dians. Unfortunately, however, for the success of these 
speculators, Kentucky lay within the limits of Virginia, 
according to the old charter of King James, and that state 
accordingly claimed for herself solely, the privilege of 
purchasing the Indian title to lands lying within her own 
limits. 

She lost no time therefore, in pronouncing the treaty 
of Henderson null and void, as it regarded Ms own title; 
although, by rather an exceptionable process of reasoning, 
they determined that it was obligatory upon the Indians, 
so far as regarded the extinction of their title. Whether 
or not the reasoning was good, I cannot pretend to say; 
but, supported as it was by a powerful state, it was made 
good, and Henderson's golden dreams completely vanish- 
ed. He and his associates, however, received a liberal 
grant of land lying on Green river, as a compensation for 
the expense and danger which they had incurred in pros- 
ecuting their settlement. 

It was under the auspices of Henderson, that Boone's 
next visit to Kentucky was made. Leaving his family on 
Clinch river, he set out at the head of a few men, to mark 
out a road for the pack horses or wagons of Henderson's 
party. This laborious and dangerous duty, he executed 
with his usual patient fortitude, until he came within fif- 
teen miles of the spot where Boonesborough afterwards 
was built. Here, on the 22nd of March, his small party 
was attacked by the Indians, and suffered a loss of four 
men killed and wounded. The Indians, although repuls- 
ed with loss in this affair, renewed the attack with equal 



DANIEL BOONE. 47 

fury on the next day, and killed and wounded five more 
of his party. On the 1st of April, the survivors began to 
build a small fort on the Kentucky river, afterwards call- 
ed Boonesborough, and on the 4th, they were again attacked 
by the Indians, and lost another man. Notwithstanding 
the harassing attacks to which they were constantly ex- 
posed, (for the Indians seemed enraged to madness at the 
prospect of their building houses on their hunting ground,) 
the work was prosecuted with indefatigable diligence, and 
on the 14th was completed. 

Boone instantly returned to Clinch river for his family, 
determined to bring them with him at every risk. This 
^^s done as soon as the journey could be performed, and 
Mrs, Boone and her daughters were the first white women 
who stood upon the banks of the Kentucky river, as Boone 
himself had been the first white man who ever built a 
cabin upon the borders of the state. The first house, 
however, which ever stood in the interior of Kentucky^ 
was erected at Harrodsburgh, in the year 1774, by James 
Harrod, who conducted to this place a party of hunters from 
the banks of the Monongahela. This place was, there- 
fore, a few months older than Boonesborough. Both soon 
became distinguished, as the only places in v/hich hunters 
and surveyors could find security from the fury of the In- 
dians. 

Within a few weeks afler the arrival of Mrs. Boone and 
her daughters, the infant colony was reinforced by three 
more families, at the head of which were Mrs. McGary, 
Mrs. Hogan, and Mrs. Denton. Boonesborough, however, 
was the central object of Indian hostilities, and scarcely 
had his family become domesticated in their new posses- 
sion, when they were suddenly attacked by a party of 
Indians, and lost one of their garrison. This was on the 
24th of December, 1775. 

In the following July, however, a much more alarming 
incident occurred. One of his daughters, in company 
with a Miss Calloway, were amusing themselves in the 
immediate neighborhood of the fort, when a party of In- 
dians, suddenly rushed out of a canebrake, and, intercept- 
ing their return, took them prisoners. The screams ot 



48 WESTERH ADVENTURE. 

the terrified girls quickly alarmed the family. The small 
garrison was dispersed in their usual occupations; but 
Boone hastily collected a small party of eight men, and 
pursued the enemy. So much time, however, had been 
lost, that the Indians had got several miles the start of 
them. The pursuit was urged through the night with 
great keenness, by woodsmen capable of following a trail 
at all times, and on the following day they came up with 
them. 

The attack was so sudden and furious, that the Indians 
were driven from their ground before they had leisure to 
tomahawk their prisoners, and the girls were recovered 
without having sustained any other injury, than excesstve 
fright and fatigue. Nothing but a barren outline of this 
interesting occurrence has been given. We know noth- 
ing of the conduct of the Indians to their captives, or of 
the situation of the young ladies during the short engage- 
ment, and cannot venture to fill up the outline from 
imagination. The Indians lost tv/o men, v/hile Boone's 
party was uninjured. 

From this time until the 15th of April, 1777, the garri- 
son was incessantly harassed by flying parties of Indians. 
While ploughing their corn, they were waylaid and shot 
while hunting they were chased and fired upon ; and some- 
times a solitary Indian would creep up near the fort, in 
the night, and fire upon the first of the garrison who ap- 
peared in the morning. They were in a constant state of 
anxiety and alarm, and the most ordinary duties could 
only be performed at the risk of their lives. 

On the 15th of April, the enemy appeared in large 
numbers, hoping to crush the infant settlement at a sin- 
gle blow. Boonesborough, Logan's Fort, and Harrods- 
burgh, were attacked at one and the same time. But, 
destitute as they were of artillery, scaling ladders, and 
all the proper means of reducing fortified places, they 
could only distress the men, alarm the women, and destroy 
the corn and cattle. Boonesborough sustained some loss^ 
as did the other stations, but the enemy being more ex- 
posed, suffered so severely as to retire with precipitation. 

No rest, however, was given to the unhappy garrison. 



DAKIEL BOorsE. 49 

On the 4th of July following, they were again attacked 
by two hundred warriors, and again repulsed the enemy 
with loss. The Indians retreated; but a few days after- 
v/ards, fell upon Logan's station with great fury, having 
sent detachments to alarm the other stations, so as to pre- 
vent the appearance of reinforcements to Logan's. In 
this last attempt, they displayed great obstinacy, and as the 
garrison consisted only of fifteen men, they were reduced 
to extremity. Not a moment could be aliov/ed for sleep. 
Burning arrows were shot upon the roofs of the houses, 
and the Indians often pressed boldly up to the gates, and 
attempted to hew them down with their tomahawks. For- 
tunately, at this critical time, Colonel Bowman arrived 
from Virginia with one hundred men, well armed, and the 
savages precipitately withdrew, leaving the garrison al- 
most exhausted with fatigue, and reduced to twelve men. 

A brief period of repose now follov/ed, in which the set 
tiers endeavored to repair the damages done to their farms 
But a period of heavy trial to Boone and his family vv^as 
approaching. In January, 1778, accompanied by thirty 
men, Boone went to the Blue Licks to make salt for the 
different stations ; and on the 7th of February following, 
while out hunting, he fell in with one hundred and two 
Indian warriors, on their march to attack Boonesborough. 
He instantly fled, but, being upwards of fifty years old, 
was unable to contend with the fleet young men who pur- 
sued him, and was a second time taken prisoner. As 
usual, he was treated with kindness until his final fate was 
determined, and was led back to the Licks, where his men 
were still encamped. Here his whole party, to the num- 
ber of twenty seven, surrendered themselves, upon prom- 
ise of life and good treatment, both of which conditions 
were faithfully observed. 

Had the Indians prosecuted their enterprise, they might 
perhaps, by showing their prisoners, and threatening to 
put them to the torture, have operated so far upon the 
sympathies of the garrisons, as to have obtained conside- 
rable results. But nothing of the kind was attempted. 
They had already been .unexpectedly successful; and it is 
their custom, after good or bad fortune, immediately to 



50 WESTERN ADVEIVTURE. 

return home and enjoy their triumph, or lament their ill 
success. Boone and his party were conducted to the old 
town of Chillicothe, where they remained until the follow- 
ing March. No journal was written during this period, 
by either Boone, or his party. We are only informed that 
his mild and patient equanimity, wrought powerfully upon 
the Indians; that he was adopted into a family, and uni- 
formly treated with the utmost affection. One fact is 
given us which shows his acute observation, and knowl- 
edge of mankind. At the various shooting matches tcr 
which he was invited, he took care not to beat them toe 
often. He knew that no feeling is more painful than that 
of inferiority, and that the most effectual way of keeping 
them in a good humor with him^ was to keep them in a 
good humor with themselves. He, therefore, only shot 
well enough, to make it an honor to beat him, and found 
himself an universal favorite. 

It is much to be regretted, that some of our wits and 
egotists, of both sexes, could not borrow a little of the sa- 
gacity of Boone, and recollect, that when they engross the 
attention of the company, and endeavor most to shine, that • 
instead of being agreeable, in nine cases out of ten they 
are only bores. 

On the 10th of March, 1778, Boone was conducted to 
Detroit, when Governor Hamilton himself, offered £100 
for his ransom; but so strong vv^as the affection of the In 
dians for their prisoner, that it was positively refused. 
Several English gentlemen, touched with sympathy for 
his misfortunes, made pressing offers of money and other 
articles, but Boone steadily refused to receive benefits 
which he could never return. The offer was honorable 
to them, and the refusal was dictated by rather too refined 
a spirit of independence. Boone's anxiety on account of 
his wife and children, was incessant, and the more intol- 
erable, as he dared not excite the suspicion of the Indians 
by any indication of a wish to rejoin them. 

Upon his return from Detroit, he observed that one hun- 
dred and fifty warriors of various tribes had assembled, 
painted and equipped for an expedition against Boonesbo- 
rough. His anxiety at this sight became ungovernable, 



DANIEL BOONE. 51 

and he determined, at every risk, to effect his escape. 
During the whole of this agitating period, however, he 
permitted no symptoms of anxiety to escape him. He 
hunted and shot with them, as usual, until the morning of 
the 16th of June, when, taking an early start, he left Chil- 
licothe, and directed his route to Boonesborough. The 
distance exceeded one hundred and sixty miles, but he 
performed it in four days, during which he ate only one 
meal. He appeared before the garrison like one risen 
from the dead. 

His wife, supposing him killed, had transported herself, 
children and property to her father's house, in North Car- 
olina; his men, suspecting no danger, were dispersed in 
their ordinary avocations, and the works had been per- 
mitted to go to waste. Not a moment was to be lost. 
The garrison w^orked day and night upon the fortifications. 
New gates, new flanks, and double bastions, were soon 
completed. The cattle and horses were brought into the 
fort, ammunition prepared, and every thing made ready 
for the approach of the enemy within ten days after his 
arrival. At this time, one of his companions in captivity 
arrived from Chillicothe, and announced that his escape 
had determined the Indians to delay the invasion for three 
weeks. 

During this interval, it was ascertained that numerous 
spies were traversing the v/oods and hovering around the 
station, doubtless for the purpose of observing and report- 
ing the condition of the garrison. Their report could not 
have been favorable. The alarm had spread very gene- 
rally, and all were upon the alert. The attack was de- 
layed so long, that Boone began to suspect that they had 
been discouraged by the report of the spies; and he de- 
termined to invade them. Selecting nineteen men from 
his garrison, he put himself at their head, and marched 
with equal silence and celerity, against the town of Paint 
Creek, on the Scioto. He arrived, without discovery, 
within four miles of the town, and there encountered a 
party of thirty warriors on their march to unite with the 
grand army in the expedition against Boonesborough. 

Instantly attacking them with great spirit, h« compelled 



52 W£5T£B,N ADVENTURE. 

them to give way with some loss, and without any injury 
to himself. He then halted, and sent two spies in ad- 
vance, to ascertain the condition of the village. In a few 
hours they returned with the intelligence, that the town 
was evacuated. He instantly concluded that the grand 
army was upon its nmrch against Boonesborough, whose 
situation, as well as his own, was exceedingly critical. 
Retracing his steps, he marched day and night, hoping 
stili to elude the enemy, and reach Boonesborough before 
them. He soon fell in Vv ith their trail, and making a cir- 
cuit to avoid them, he passed their army on the sixth day 
of their march, and on the seventh reached Boonesbo- 
rough. 

On the eighth, the enemy appeared in great force. 
There were nearly five hundred Indian warriors, armed 
and painted in their usual manner, and what was still 
more formidable, they were conducted by Canadian offi- 
cers, well skilled in the usages of modern warfare. As 
soon as they vf ere arrayed in front of the fort, the British 
colors were displayed, and an officer, with a flag, v/as sent 
to demand the surrender of the fort, with a promise of 
quarter and good treatment in case of compliance, and 
threatening "the hatchet," in case of a storm. Boone 
requested two days for consideration, which, in defiance of 
all experience and common sense, was granted. This 
interval, as usual, was employed in preparation for an ob- 
stinate resistance. The cattle were brought into the fort, 
the horses secured, and all things made ready against the 
commencement of hostilities. 

Boone then assembled the garrison, and represented to 
them the condition in which they stood. They had not 
now to deal v/ith Indians alone, but with British officers, 
skilled in the art of attacking fortified places, sufficiently 
numerous to direct, but too few to restrain their savage 
allies. If they surrendered, their lives might and proba- 
bly would be saved; but they v/ould suffer much inconven 
lence, and must lose all their property. If they resisted, 
and were overcome^ the life of every man, woman and 
child would be sacrificed. The hour was now come in 
which they were to d^tairmiiiii* what was to be done. If 



©ANIEL BOOKS. 53 

they were inclined to surrender, he would announce it to 
the officer; if they were resolved to maintain the fort, he 
would share their fate, whether in life or death. He had 
scarcely finished, when every man arose and in a firm 
tone announced his determination to defend the fort to the 
last. 

Boone then appeared at the gate of the fortress, and 
communicated to Captain Duquesne the resolution of his 
men. Disappointment and chagrin were strongly painted 
upon the face of the Canadian at this ansv/er; but endeav- 
oring to disguise his feelings, he declared that Governor 
Hamilton had ordered him not to injure the men if it could 
be avoided, and that if nine of the principal inhabitants 
of the fort would come out into the plain and treat with 
them, they would instantly depart without farther hostility. 
The insidious nature of this proposal was evident, for they 
could converse very well from where they then stood, and 
going out would only place the officers of the fort at the 
mercy of the savages, not to mention the absurdity of 
supposing that this army of warriors would '^treat^'^ but 
upon such terms as pleased them, and no terms were like- 
ly to do so, short of a total abandonment of the country. 

Notwithstanding these obvious objections, the word 
^' treat," sounded so pleasantly in the ears of the besieged, 
that they agreed at once to the proposal, and Boone him- 
self, attended by eight of his men, went out and mingled 
with the savages, who crowded around them in great num- 
bers, and with countenances of deep anxiety. The treaty 
then commenced and was soon concluded. What the 
terms were, we are not informed, nor is it a matter of the 
least importance, as the whole was a stupid and shallow 
artifice. This was soon made manifest. Duquesne, af- 
ter many, very m^any pretty periods about the " hienfdis- 
ance ei humanite?'^ which should accompany the warfare 
of civilized beings, at length informed Boone, that it was 
a custom with the Indians, upon the conclusion of a treaty 
with the whites, for tv\^o warriors to take hold of the hand 
of each white man. 

Boone thought this rather a singular custom, but there 
was no time to dispute about etiquette, particularly, as he 

5 



54 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

could not be more in their power than he ah'eady was; so 
he signified his willingness to conform to the Indian mode 
of cementing friendship. Instantly, two warriors ap- 
proached each white man, with the word " brother " upon 
their lips, but a very different expression in their eyes, 
and grappling him with violence, attempted to bear him 
off. They probably (unless totally infatuated) expected 
such a consummation, and all at the same moment sprung 
from their enemies and ran to the fort, under a heavy fire, 
which fortunately onl}^ wounded one man. 

We look here in vain for the prudence and sagacity 
which usually distinguished Boone. Indeed there seems 
to have been a contest between him and Duquesne, as to 
which should display the greater quantum of shallowness. 
The plot itself was unworthy of a child, and the execution 
beneath contempt. For after all this treachery, to per- 
mit his prisoner to escape from the very midst of his war- 
riors, vv^ho certainly might have thrown themselves be- 
tween Boone and the fort, argues a poverty or timidity, 
on the part of Duquesne, truly despicable. 

The attack instantly commenced by a heavy fire against 
the picketing, and v/as returned v/ith fatal accuracy by 
the garrison. The Indians quickly sheltered themselves, 
and the action became more cautious and deliberate. Find- 
ing but little effect from the fire of his men, Duquesne 
next resorted to a more formidable mode of attack. The 
fort stood on the south bank of the river, within sixty 
yards of the water. Commencing under the bank, where 
their operations were concealed from the garrison, they 
attempted to push a mine into the fort. Their object, 
however, was fortunately discovered by the quantity of 
fresh earth which they were compelled to throv/ into the 
river, and by which the water became muddy for some dis- 
tance below. Boone, who had regained his usual sagacity, 
instantly cut a trench within the fort in such a manner as 
to intersect the line of their approach, and thus frustrated 
their design. 

The enemy exhausted all the ordinary artifices of In- 
dian warfare, but were steadily repulsed in every effort. 
Finding their numbers daily thinned by the deliberate 



DANIEL BOONE. 55 

but fatal fire of the garrison, and seeing no prospect of 
final success, they broke up on the ninth day of the siege, 
and returned home. The loss of the garrison, was two 
men killed and four wounded. On the part of the sava- 
ges, thirty-seven were killed and many wounded, v/ho, as 
usual, were all carried off. This was the last siege sus- 
tained by Boonesborough. The country had increased so 
rapidly in numbers, and so many other stations lay be- 
tween Boonesborough and the Ohio, that the savages 
could not reach it, without leaving enemies in the rear. 

In the autumn of this year, Boone returned to North 
Carolina for his wife and family, who, as already observ- 
ed, had supposed him dead, and returned to her father. 
There is a hint in Mr. MarshalPs history, that the family 
affairs which detained him in North Carolina, were of an 
unpleasant character, but no explanation is given. 

In the summer of 1780, he returned to Kentucky with 
his family and settled at Boonesborough. Here he con- 
tinued busily engaged upon his farm until the 6th of Oc- 
tober, when, accompanied by his brother, he v/ent to the 
Lower Blue Licks, for the purpose of providing himself 
with salt. This spot seemed fatal to Boone. Here, he 
had once been taken prisoner by the Indians, and here 
he was destined, within two years, to lose his young- 
est son, and to witness the slaughter of many of his dear- 
est friends. His present visit was not free from calamity. 
Upon their return, they were encountered by a party of 
Indians, and his brother, who had accompanied him faith- 
fully through many years of toil and danger, was killed 
and scalped before his eyes. 

Unable either to prevent or avenge his death, Boone 
was compelled to fly, and by his superior knowledge of 
the country, contrived to elude his pursuers. They fol- 
lowed his trail, however, by the scent of a dog, that 
pressed him closely, and prevented his concealing himself. 
This was one of the most critical moments of his life, but 
his usual coolness and fortitude enabled him to meet 
it. He halted until the dog, baying loudly upon his 
trail, came within gunshot, when he deliberately turned 
and shot him dead. The thickness of the woods and 



56 WBSTKRK ADVENTURE. 

the approach of darkness, then enabled him to effect hi0 
escape* 

During the following year, Boonesboroiigh enjoyed 
uninterrupted tranquillity. The country had become 
comparatively thickly settled, and was studded with for- 
tresses in every direction. Fresh emigrants with their 
families were constantly arriving; and many young un- 
married women, (v/ho had heretofore been extremely 
scarce,) had ventured to risk themselves in Kentucky. 
They could not have selected a spot, where their merit 
was more properly appreciated, and were disposed of very 
rapidly to the young hunters, most of whom had hitherto, 
from necessity, remained bachelors. Thriving settle- 
ments had been pushed beyond the Kentucky river, and a 
number of houses had been built where Lexington now 
stands. 

The year 1781 passed away in perfect tranquillity, and 
judging from appearances, nothing was more distant, than 
the terrible struggle which awaited them. But during 
the whole of this year, the Indians were meditating a des^ 
perate effort, to crush the settlements at a single blow* 
They had become seriously alarmed at the tide of emigration 
which rolled over the country, and threatened to convert 
their favorite hunting ground into one vast cluster of vil- 
lages. The game had already been much dispersed, the 
settlers originally weak aad scattered over the south side 
of the Kentucky river, had now become numerous^ and 
were rapidly extending to the Ohio. One vigorous and 
united effort might still crush their enemies, and regain 
for themselves the undisputed possession of the western 
forests. 

A few renegado white men, were mingled with them, 
and inflamed their wild passions, by dwelling upon the in- 
juries which they had ever sustained at the hands of the 
whites, and of the necessity for instant and vigorous ex- 
ertion^ or of an eternal surrender of every hope either of 
redress or vengeance. Among these, the most remarkable 
was Simon Girty, Runners were despatched to most of 
the north-western tribes, and all were exhorted to lay 

ide priv?ite jealousy, and unite in a common caude 



t>AmEh BOONE. 57 

against these white intruders. In the mean time, the 
settlers were busily employed in opening farms, marrying 
and giving in marriage, totally ignorant of the storm 
which was gathering upon the Lakes. 

In the spring of 1782^ after a long interval of repose, 
they were harassed by small parties, who preceded the 
main body, as the pattering and irregular drops of rainy 
are the precursors of the approaching storm. In the 
month of Ma}^, a party of twenty-five Wyandotts secretly 
approached Estill's station^ and committed shocking outra- 
ges in its vicinity. Entering a cabin which stood apart 
from the rest, they seized a woman and her two daughters, 
who having been violated with circumstances of savage 
barbarity, were tomahawked and scalped. Their bodies, 
yet warm and bleeding, were found upon the floor of the 
cabin. The neighborhood was instantly alarmed. Cap- 
tain Estill speedily collected a body of twenty-five men, 
and pursued their trail with gi*eat rapidity. He came up 
with them on Hinkston fork of Licking, immediately after 
they had crossed it, and a most severe and desperate con- 
flict ensued. 

The Indians^ at first appeared daunted and began to fly, 
'^but their chiefs who was badly wounded by the first fire, 
was heard in a lead voice, ordering them to stand and re- 
turn the fire, which was instantly obeyed. The creek 
ran betv/een the two parties, and prevented a charge on 
.either side^ without the certainty of gi*eat loss. The par- 
rties, therefore, consisting of precisely the same number, 
formed an irregular line, within fifty yards of each other, 
and sheltering themselves behind trees or logs, they fired 
with deliberation, as an object presented itself. The on- 
ly maneuver, whick the nature of the ground permitted, 
was to extend their lines in such a manner as to uncover 
the flank of the enemy, and even this was extremely dan* 
gerous, as every motion exposed them to a close and dead- 
ly fire. 

The actios, therefore, was chiefly stationary, neither 
party advancing or retreating, and every individual act- 
ing for himself. It had already lasted more than an hour? 
without advantage on either side, or any prospect of its 



58 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

termination. Captain Estill had lost one third of his meny 
and had inflicted about an equal loss upon his enemies 
who still boldly maintained their ground^ and returned his 
fire with equal spirit. To have persevered in the Indian 
mode of ^ghiing, would have exposed his party to certain 
death, one by one, unless all the Indians should be killed 
first, who, however, had at least an equal chance with him- 
self. Even victory, bought at such a price, would have 
afforded but a melancholy triumph; yet it was impossible 
to retreat or advance without exposing his men to the 
greatest danger. 

After coolly revolving these reflections in his mind, and 
observing that the enemy exhibited no symptoms of dis- 
couragement, Captain Estill determined to detach a party 
of six men, under Lieutenant Miller, with orders to cross 
the creek above, and take the Indians in flank, while he 
maintained his ground, ready to co-operate, as circumstan- 
ces might require. But he had to deal with an enemy 
equally bold and sagacious. The Indian chief was quick- 
ly aware of the division of the force opposed to him, from 
the slackening of the fire in front, and readily conjectur- 
ing his object, he determined to frustrate it by crossing 
the creek with his whole force, and overwhelming Estill, 
now weakened by the absence of Miller. 

The manceuver was bold and masterly, and was execu- 
ted with determined courage. Throv/ing themselves into 
the water, they fell upon Estill with the tomahawk, and 
drove him before them with slaughter. Miller's party re- 
treated with precipitation, and even lie under the reproach 
of deserting their friends, and absconding, instead of oc- 
cupying the designated ground. Others contradict this 
statement, and affirm that Miller punctually executed his 
orders, crossed the creek, and falling in with the enemy, 
was compelled to retire with loss. We think it probable, 
that the Indians rushed upon Estill, as above mentioned, 
and having defeated him, recrossed the creek and attacked 
Miller, thus cutting up their enemy in detail. 

Estill's party finding themselves furiously charged, and 
receiving no assistance from Miller, v/ho was probably at 
that time on the other side of the creek, in the execution 



\NIEL BOONE, 59 

of his orders^ would naturally consider themselves deserted, 
and when a clamor of that kind is once raised against a 
man, (particularly in a defeat,) the voice of reason can no 
longer be heard. Some scape-goat is always necessary. 
The broken remains of the detachment returned to the 
station, and filled the country with consternation and 
alarm, greatly disproportioned to the extent of the. loss. 
The brave Estill, with eight of his men, had fallen, and 
four more were wounded, m.ore than half of their original 
number. 

This, notwithstanding the smallness of the numbers, is 
a very remarkable action, and, perhaps, more honorable to 
the Indians than any other one on record. The numbers, 
the arms, the courage, and the position of the parties, were 
equal. Both were composed of good marksmen, and skil- 
ful woodsmen. There was no surprise, no panic, nor any 
particular accident, according to the most probable account, 
which decided the a<jtion. A delicate manoeuver, on the 
part of Estill gave- an advantage, which was promptly seiz- 
ed by the Indian chief, and a bold and masterly movement 
decided the fate of the day. The great battles of Auster- 
litz and Wagram exhibit the same error on the part of 
one commander, and the same decisive and successful step 
on the part of the other. 

The Arch Duke Charles extended his line to take the 
French in flank, and thereby weakened his center, which 
was instantly broken by a rapid charge of the w^hcle 
French army. No movement seems more delicate and 
dangerous than that of Estill, and the first great check 
w^hich Bonaparte received, (that of Eylau,) w^as chiefly 
occasioned by weakening his front in order to assail the 
enemy in rear. It requires, however, great boldness and 
promptitude in the opposite leader, to take advantage of 
it. A cautious and vv^ary leader, will be apt to let the 
golden opportunity pass away, until the detachment has 
reached his flank, and it is then too late. The English 
military critics censure our Washington for hesitation of 
this kind at Brandy wine. They say, that when the de- 
tachment of Cornwallis was absent on its march to take 
the Americans in flanks Washington should have crossed 



eo WESTERN ADVEKTURE. 

with his whole force, and have fallen upon Kniphausen. 
Lee says, that such a manoeuver was contemplated, but 
was prevented by false intelligence. 

The news cf EstilPs disaster was quickly succeeded by 
another scarcely less startling to the alarmed settlers. 
Captain Holder, at the head of seventeen men, pursued a 
party of Indians v/ho had taken two boys from the neigh- 
borhood of Hoy's station. He overlook them after a rapid 
pursuit, and in the severe action which ensued, was re- 
pulsed with the loss of more than half his party. The 
tide of success seemed completely turned in favor of the 
Indians. They traversed the woods in every direction, 
sometimes singly, sometimes in small parties, and kept the 
settlers in constant alarm. 

At length, early in August, the grand eiTort was made. 
The allied Indian army, composed of detachments from 
nearly all the north-western tribes, and amounting to near- 
ly six hundred men, commenced their march from Chilli- 
cothe, under the command of their respective chiefs, aided 
and influenced by Girty, McKee, and other renegade white 
men. With a secrecy and celerity peculiar to themselves, 
they advanced through the woods without giving the slight- 
est indications of their approach; and on the night of the 
14th of August, they appeared before Bryant's station, as 
suddenly as if they had risen from the earth, and sur- 
rounding it on all sides, calmly awaited the approach of 
daylight, holding themselves in readiness to rush in upon 
the inhabitants the moment that the gates were opened in 
the morning. The supreme influence of fortune in war, 
was never more strikingly displayed. 

The garrison bad determined to march at daylight on 
the following morning, to the assistance of Hoy's station, 
from which a mes&enger had arrived the evening before, 
with the intelligence of Holder's defeat. Had the Indians 
arrived only a few hours later, they would have found the 
fort occupied only by old men, women and children, who 
could not have resisted their attack for a moment. As it 
was, they found the garrison assen^bled and under arms, 
most of them busily engaged throughout the whole night, 
in preparing for an early march on the following morning 



p 



DANIEL BOONE. 61 

The Indians could distinctly hear the bustle of preparation, 
and see lights glancing from block houses and cabins during 
the night, which must have led them to suspect that their 
approach had been discovered. All continued tranquil dur- 
ing the night, and Girty silently concerted the plan of 
attack. 

The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in par- 
allel lines, stands upon a gentle rise on the southern bank 
of the Elkhorn, a few paces to the right of the road from 
Maysville to Lexington. The garrison was supplied with 
water from a spring at some distance from the fort on its 
north-western side ; a great error, common to most of the 
stations, which, in a close and long continued siege, must 
have suffered dreadfully for want of water. 

The great body of Indians placed themselves in ambush 
within half rifle shot of the spring, wliile one hundred se- 
lect men were placed near the spot where the road now 
runs after passing the creek, with orders to open a brisk 
fire and show themselves to the garrison on that side, for 
the purpose of drawing them out, while the main body 
held themselves in readiness to rush upon the opposite 
gate of the fort, hew it dov/n v/ith their tomahawks, and 
force their way into the midst of the cabins. At dawn of 
day, the garrison paraded under arms, and were preparing 
to open their gates and march off as already mentioned, 
when they were alarmed by a furious discharge of rifles, 
accompanied with yells and screams, which struck terror 
to the hearts of the women and children, and startled even 
the men. 

All ran hastily to the picketing, and beheld a small par- 
ty of Indians, exposed to open view, firing, yelling, and 
making the most furious gestures. The appearance was 
so singular, and so different from their usual manner of 
fighting, that some of the more wary and experienced of 
the garrison instantly pronounced it a decoy party, and 
restrained the young men fi'om sallying out and attacking 
them, as some of them were strongly disposed to do. The 
opposite side of the fort was instantly manned, and seve- 
ral breaches in the picketing rapidly repaired. Their 
greatest distress arose from the prospect ©f suffering for 



62 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

water. The more experienced of the garrison felt satis- 
fied that a powerful party was in ambuscade near the 
spring, but at the same time they supposed that the In- 
dians would not unmask themselves, until the firing upon 
the opposite side of the fort was returned w ith such warmth, 
as to induce the belief that the feint had succeeded. 

Acting upon this impression, and yielding to the urgent 
necessity of the case, they summoned all the w^omen, with- 
out exception, and explaining to them the circumstances 
in w^hich they w ere placed, and the improbability that any 
injury would be offered them, until the firing had been re- 
turned from the opposite side of the fort, they urged them 
to go in a body to the spring, and each to bring up a buck- 
et full of water. Some of the ladies, as was natural, had 
no relish for the undertaking, and asked why the men 
could not bring water as well as themselves? observing 
that they were not bullet-proof, and that the Indians made 
no distinction between male and female scalps ! 

To this it was answered, that women w^ere in the habit 
of bringing water every morning to the fort, and that if 
the Indians saw them engaged as usual, it wouM induce 
them to believe that their ambuscade was undiscovered, 
and that they would not unmask themselves for the sake 
of firing at a few women, when they hoped, by remaining 
concealed a few moments longer, to obtain complete pos- 
session of the fort. That if men should go down to the 
spring, the Indians would immediately suspect that some 
thing was wrong, w^ould despair of succeeding by ambus 
cade, and would instantly rush upon them, follow them into 
the fort, or shoot them down at the spring. The decisioi? 
was soon over. 

A few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave 
the danger, and the younger and more timid rallying in 
the rear of these veterans, they all marched down in a 
body to the spring, within point blank shot of more than 
five hundred Indian warriors ! Some of the girls could not 
help betraying symptoms of terror, but the married women, 
in general, moved with a steadiness and composure, which 
completely deceived the Indians. Not a shot was fired. 
The party were permitted to fill their buckets, one after 



DANIEL BOONE. 63 

another, without interruptiorij and although their steps be- 
came quicker and quicker, on their return, and when near 
the gate of the fort, degenerated into a rather unmilitary ce- 
lerity, attended with some little crowding in passing the 
gate, yet not more than one-fifth of the water was spilled, 
and the eyes of the youngest had not dilated to more than 
double their ordinary size. 

Being now amply supplied with v/ater, they sent out 
thirteen young men to attack the decoy party, v/ith orders 
to fire with great rapidity, and make as much noise as pos- 
sible, but not to pursue the enemy too far, while the rest 
of the garrison took post on the opposite side of the fort, 
cocked their guns, and stood in readiness to receive the 
ambuscade as soon as it was unmasked. The firing of the 
light parties on the Lexington road v/as soon heard, and 
quickly became sharp and serious, gradually becoming 
more distant from the fort. Instantly, Girty sprung up at 
the head of his five hundred warriors, and rushed rapidly 
upon the western gate, ready to force his way over the un- 
defended palisades. Into this immense mass of dusky 
bodies, the garrison poured several rapid volleys of rifle 
balls with destructive effect. Their consternation may be 
imagined. With wild cries they dispersed on the Tight 
and left, and in two minutes not an Indian was to be seen. 
At the same time, the party who had sallied out on the 
Lexington road, came running into the fort at the opposite 
gate, in high spirits, and laughing heartily at the success 
of their manoeuvre. 

A regular attack, in the usual manner, then commenced, 
without much effect on either side, until two o'clock in the 
afternoon, when a new scene presented itself. Upon the 
first appearance of the Indians in the morning, two of the 
garrison, Tomlinson and Bell, had been mounted upon fleet 
horses, and sent at full speed to Lexington, announcing the 
arrival of the Indians and demanding reinforcements. Up- 
on their arrival, a little after sunrise, they found the town 
occupied only by women and children, and a few old men, 
the rest having marched at the intelligence of Holder's 
defeat, to the general rendezvous at Hoy's station. The 
two couriers instantly followed at a gallop, and overtaking 



64 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

them on the road, informed them of the danger to which 
Lexington was exposed during their absence. 

The whole party, amounting to sixteen horsemen and 
more than double that number on foot, with some additional 
volunteers from Boone's station, instantly countermarched, 
and repaired with all possible expedition to Bryant's sta- 
tion. They were entirely ignorant of the overwhelming 
numbers opposed to them, or they would have proceeded 
with more caution. Tomlinson had only informed them 
that the station was surrounded, being himself ignorant of 
the numbers of the enemy. By great exertions, horse 
and foot appeared before Bryant's at two in the afternoon, 
and pressed forward with precipitate gallantry to throw 
themselves into the fort. The Indians, however, had been 
aware of the departure of the two couriers, who had, in 
fact, broken through their line in order to give the alarm, 
and expecting the arrival of reinforcements, had taken 
measures to meet them. 

To the left of the long and narrow lane, where the Mays- 
ville and Lexington road now runs, there were more than 
one hundred acres of green standing corn. The usual 
road from Lexington to Bryant's, ran parallel to the fence 
of this field, and only a few feet distant from it. On the 
opposite side of the road was a thick wood. Here, more 
than three hundred Indians lay in ambush, within pistol 
shot of the road, awaiting the approach of the party. The 
horsemen came in view at a time when the firing had 
ceased and every thing was quiet. Seeing no enemy, and 
hearing no noise, they entered the lane at a gallop, and 
were instantly saluted with a shower of rifle bails, from 
each side, at the distance of ten paces. 

At the first shot, the whole party set spurs to their 
hordes, and rode at full speed through a rolling fire from 
either side, which continued for several hundred yards, but 
owing partly to the furious rate at which they rode, partly 
to the clouds of dust raised by the horses' feet, they all 
entered the fort unhurt. The men on foot were less for- 
tunate. They were advancing through the corn-field, and 
might have reached the fort in safety, but for their eager- 
lyesB to succor their friends. Without reflecting, that from 



DANIEL BOONE. 65 

the weight and extent of the fire^ the enemy must have 
been ten times their number, they ran up with inconsiderate 
couivage, to the spot where the firing was heard, and there 
found themselves cut off from the fort, and within pistol 
shot of more than three hundred savages. 

Fortunately the Indian guns had just been discharged, 
and they had not yet had leisure to re-load. At the sight 
of this brave body of footmen, however, they raised a 
hideous yell, and rushed upon them, tomahawk in hand. 
Nothing but the high corn and their loaded rifles, could 
have saved them from destruction. The Indians were cau^ 
tious in rushing upon a loaded rifle, with only a tomahawk, 
and when they halted to load their pieces, the Kentucki- 
ans ran with great rapidity, turning and dodging through 
the corn in every direction. Some entered the wood and 
escaped through the thickets of cane, some were shot down 
in the corn-field, others maintained a running fight, halting 
occasionally behind trees and keeping the enemy at bay 
with their rifles ; for, of all men, the Indians are generally 
the most cautious in exposing themselves to danger. A 
stout, active young fellow, was so hard pressed by Girty 
and several savages, that he was compelled to discharge 
his rifle, (however unwilling, having no time to re-load it,) 
and Girty fell. 

It happened, however, that a piece of thick sole-leather 
was in his shot-pouch at the time, which received the ball, 
and preserved his life, although the force of the blow felled 
him to the ground. The savages halted upon his fall, and 
the young man escaped. Although the skirmish and the 
race lasted for more than an hour, during which the corn- 
field presented a scene of turmoil and bustle which can 
scai'cely be conceived, yet very few lives were lost. Only 
six of the white men were killed and wounded, and proba- 
bly still fewer of the enemy, as the whites never fired un- 
til absolutely necessary, but reserved their loads as a check 
upon the enemy. Had the Indians pursued them to Lex* 
ington, they might have possessed themselves of it without 
resistance, as there was no force there to oppose them ; but 
after following the fugitives for a few hundred yards, they 
returned to the hopeless siege of the fort. 



^ WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

It was now near sunset, and the fire on both sides had 
slackened. The Indians had become discouraged. Their 
loss in the morning had been heavy, and the country was 
evidently arming, and would soon be upon them. They 
had made no impression upon the fort, and without artil- 
lery could hope to make none. The chiefs spoke of rais- 
ing the siege and decamping; but Girty determined, since 
his arms had been unavailing, to try the efficacy of negotia- 
tion. Near one of the bastions there was a large stump, 
to which he crept on his hands and knees, and from which 
he hailed the garrison. 

He highly commended their courage, but assured them, 
that further resistance would be madness, as he had six 
hundred warriors with him, and was in hourly expectation 
of reinforcements, with artillery, which would instantly 
blow their cabins into the air; that if the fort was taken 
by storm, as it certainly would be, when their cannon ar- 
rived, it would be impossible for him to save their. lives; 
but if they surrendered at once, he gave them his honor, 
that not a hair of their head should be injured. He told 
them his name, inquired v/hether they knew him, and as- 
sured them, that they might safely trust to his honor. 

The garrison listened in silence to his speech, and many 
of them looked very blank at the mention of the artillery 
as the Indians had, on one occasion, brought cannon with 
them, and destroyed two stations. But a young man by 
the name of Reynolds, highly distinguished for courage, 
energy, and a frolicsome gaiety of temper, perceiving the 
effect of Girty's speech, took upon himself to reply to it. 

To Girty 's inquiry, " whether the garrison knew him ?" 
Reynolds replied, " That he was very well known ; that 
he himself had a worthless dog, to which he had given the 
name of ' Simon Girty,' in consequence of his striking re- 
semblance to the man of that name ; that if he had either 
artillery or reinforcements, he might bring them up and 
be d — d; that if either himself, or any of the naked rascals 
with him, found their way into the fort, they would disdain 
to use their guns against them, but would drive them out 
again with switches, of which they had collected a great 
number for that purpose alone; and finally, he declar^ 



DANIEL BOONE. 67 

that they also expected reinforcements; that the whole 
country was marching to their assistance ; and that if Girty 
and his gang of murderers remained twenty-four hours 
longer before the fort, their scalps would be found drying 
in the sun upon the roofs of their cabins.'' 

Girty took great offence at the tone and language of the 
young Kentuckian, and retired with an expression of sor- 
row for the inevitable destruction w^hich awaited them on 
the following morning. He quickly rejoined the chiefs; 
and instant preparations were made for raising the siege. 
The night passed away in uninterrupted tranquillity, and 
at daylight in the morning, the Indian camp w^as found 
deserted. Fires were still burning brightly, and several 
pieces of meat were left upon their roasting sticks, from 
which it was inferred that they had retreated a short time 
before daylight. 

Early in the day, reinforcements began to drop in, and 
by noon, one hundred and sixty-seven men were assem- 
bled at Bryant's station. Colonel Daniel Boone, accom- 
panied by his youngest son, headed a strong party from 
Boonesborough ; Trigg brought up the force from the 
neighborhood of Harrodsburgh, and Todd commanded the 
militia around Lexington. Nearly a third of the v/hole 
number assembled, was composed of commissioned offi- 
cers, who hurried from a distance to the scene of hostilities, 
and for the time took their station in the ranks. Of those 
under the rank of colonel, the most conspicuous were. 
Majors Harland, McBride, McGaiy, and Levy Todd, and 
Captains Bulger and Gordon. Of the six last named offi- 
cers, all fell in the subsequent battle, except Todd and 
McGiary. Todd and Trigg, as senior colonels, took the 
command, although their authority seems to have been in 
a great measure nominal. That, however, was of less 
consequence, as a sense of common danger is often more 
binding than the strictest discipline. 

A tumultuous consultation, in which every one seems 
to have had a voice, terminated in an unanimous resolu- 
tion to pursue the enemy without delay. It was well 
known that General Logan had collected a strong force in 
Lincoln, and would join them at farthest in twenty-four 



68 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

hours. It was distinctly understood that the enemy was 
at least double, and^ according to Girty's account, more 
than treble their own numbers. It was seen that their 
trail was broad and obvious, and that even some indications 
of a tardiness and willingness to be pursued, had been ob- 
served by their scouts, who had been sent out to recon- 
noiter, and from which it might reasonably be inferred that 
they w^ould halt on the way, at least march so leisurely, 
as to permit them to wait for the aid of Logan! Yet so 
keen was the ardor of officer and soldier, that all these ob- 
vious reasons were overlooked, and in the afternoon of the 
18th of August, the line of march was taken up, and the 
pursuit urged v/ith that precipitate courage which has so of 
ten been fatal to Kentuckians. Most of the officers and 
many of the privates v/ere mounted. 

The Indians had followed the buffalo trace, and as if to 
render their trail still more evident, they had chopped ma- 
ny of the trees on each side of the road with their hatch- 
ets. These strong indications of tardiness, made some 
impression upon the cool and calculating mind of Boone 
but it was too late to advise retreat. They encamped 
that night in the woods, and on the following day reached 
the fatal boundary of their pursuit! At the Lower Blue 
Licks, for the first time since the pursuit commenced, they 
came within view of an enemy. As the miscellaneous 
crowd of horse and foot reached the southern bank of Lick- 
ing, they sav/ a number of Indians ascending the rocky 
ridge on the other side. 

They halted upon the appearance of the Kentuckians, 
gazed at them for a few moments in silence, and then calm- 
ly and leisurely disappeared over the top of the hill. A 
halt immediately ensued. A dozen or twenty officers met 
in front of the ranks, and entered into consultation. The 
wild and lonely aspect of the country around them, their 
distance from any point of support, v/ith the certainty of 
their being in the presence of a superior enemy, seems to 
have inspired a portion of seriousness, bordering upon awe. 
All eyes were now turned upon Boone, and Colonel Todd 
asked his opinion as to what should be done. The veter^p 
woodsman, with his xmml ossisoved gravity, replied: 



BaNIFX eoone. 69 

" That their situation was critical and delicate -, that the 
force opposed to them was undoubtedly numerous and ready 
for battle^ as might readily be seen from the leisurely re- 
treat of the few Indians who had appeared upon the crest 
of the hill ; that he was well acquainted with the ground 
in the neighborhood of the Lick^ and was apprehensive 
that an ambuscade was formed at the distance of a mile in 
advance, where two ravines, one upon each side of the 
ridge, ran in such a manner, that a concea,led enemy might 
assail them at once both in front and flank, before they 
were apprised of the danger. 

" It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two things- 
Either to await the arrival of Logan, who w^as now un- 
doubtedly on his march to join them, or if it was determin- 
ed to attack without delay, that one half of their number 
should march up the riverj which there bends in an ellip= 
ticai form, cross at the rapids and fall upon the rear of 
the enemy, while the other division attacked in front. At 
any rate, he strongly urged the necessity of reconnoiter 
ing the ground carefully before the main body crossed the 
river." 

Such was the counsel of Boone. And although no 
measure could have been much more disastrous than that 
which was adopted, yet it may be doubted if any thing 
short of an immediate retreat upon Logan, could have saved 
this gallant body of men from the fate which they encoun- 
tered. If they divided their force, the enemy, as in Es- 
till's case, might have overwhelmed them in detail ; if they 
remained where they were, without advancing, the enemy 
would certainly have attacked them, probably in the night, 
and with a certainty of success. They had committed a 
great error at first, in not waiting for Logan, and nothing 
short of a retreat, which would have been considered dis* 
graceful, could now repair it. 

Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. 
Some wished to adopt the first plan; others preferred the 
second; and the discussion threatened to be drawn out to 
some length, when the boiling ardor of McGary, who could 
never endure the presence of an enemy without instant 
battle, stimulated him to an act, which had nearly proved 



70 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

destructive to his country. He suddenly interrupted the 
consultation with a loud whoop, resembling the war-cry of 
the Indians, spurred his horse into the stream, waved his 
hat over his head, and shouted aloud: "Let all who are 
not cowards follow me!" The words and the action to- 
gether, produced an electrical effect. The mounted men 
dashed tumultuously into the river, each striving to be 
foremost. The footmen were mingled with them in one 
rolling and irregular mass. 

No order was given, and none observed. They strug- 
gled through a deep ford as well as they could, McGary 
still leading the van, closely followed by Majors Harland 
and McBride. With the same rapidity they ascended the 
ridge, which, by the trampling of buffalo foragers, had been 
stripped bare of all vegetation, with the exception of a few 
dwarfish cedars, and which was rendered still more deso- 
late in appearance, by the multitude of rocks, blackened 
by the sun, which were spread over its surface. Upon 
reaching the top of the ridge, they followed the buffalo 
trace with the same precipitate ardor ; Todd and Trigg in 
the rear; McGary, Harland, McBride, and Boone in front. 
No scouts were sent in advance; none explored either 
flank; officers and soldiers seemed alike dismented by the 
contagious example of a single man, and ail struggled for- 
ward, horse and foot, as if to outstrip each other in the 
advance. 

Suddenly, the van halted. They had reached the spot 
mentioned by Boone, where the two ravines head, on each 
side of the ridge. Here a body of Indians presented them- 
selves, and attacked the van. McGary's party instantly 
returned the fire, but under great disadvantage. They 
were upon a bare and open ridge; the Indians in a bushy 
ravine. The center and rear, ignorant of the ground, hur- 
ried up to the assistance of the van, but were soon stop- 
ped by a terrible fire from the ravine which flanked them. 
They found themselved enclosed as if in the v/ings of a 
net, destitute of proper shelter, while the enemy were in 
a great measure covered from their fire. Still, however, 
they maintained their ground. The action became warm 
ifiQid bloody. The parties gradually closed, the Indiaps 



DANIEL BOOr^E. 71 

emerged from the ravine, and the fire became mutually 
destructive. The ofncers suffered dreadfully. Todd and 
Trigg, in the rear; Harland, McBride, and young Boone, 
in front, were already killed. 

The Indians gradually extended their line, to turn the 
right of the Kentuckians, and cut off their retreat. This 
was quickly perceived by the weight of the fire from that 
quarter, and the rear instantly fell back in disorder, and 
attempted to rush through their only opening to the river. 
The motion quickly communicated itself to the van, and a 
hurried retreat became general. The Indians instantly 
sprung forward in pursuit, and falling upon them with their 
tomahawks, made a cruel slaughter. From the battle 
ground to the river, the spectacle was terrible. The 
horsemen generally escaped, but the foot, particularly the 
van, which had advanced farthest within the v/ings of the 
net, were almost totally destroyed. Colonel Boone, after 
witnessing the death of his son and many of his dearest 
friends, found himself almost entirely surrounded at the 
very commencement of the retreat. 

Several hundred Indians were between him and the ford, 
to which the great mass of the fugitives were bending their 
flight, and to which the attention of the savages was prin- 
cipally directed* Being intimately acquainted with the 
ground, he, together with a few friends, dashed into the 
ravine which the Indians had occupied, but which most of 
them had now left to join in the pursuit. After sustain- 
ing one or two heavy fires, and bafRing one or two small 
parties, who pursued him for a short distance, he crossed 
the river below the ford, by swimming, and entering the 
wood at a point where there was no pursuit, returned by a 
circuitous route to Bryant's station. In the mean time, 
the great mass of the victors and vanquished crowded the 
bank of the ford. 

The slaughter was great in the river. The ford was 
crov/ded with horsemen and foot and Indians, all mingled 
together. Some were compelled to seek a passage above 
by swimming; some, who could not swim, v/ere overtaken 
and killed at the edge of the water. A man by the name 
of Netherland, who had formerly been strongly suspected 



72 WESTERN ADVENTURfi:. 

of cowardice, here displayed a coolness and presence of 
mind, equally noble and unexpected. Being finely moun • 
ed he had outstripped the great mass of fugitives, and 
crossed the river in safety. A dozen or twenty horsemen 
accompanied him, and having placed the river between 
them and the enemy, showed a disposition to continue 
their flight, without regard to the safety of their friends 
who were on foot, and still struggling with the current. 

Netherland instantly checked his horse, and in a loud 
voice, called upon his companions to halt, fire upon the In- 
dians, and save those vv^ho were still in the stream. The 
party instantly obeyed; and facing about, poured a close 
and fatal discharge of rifles upon the foremost of the pur- 
suers. The enemy instantly fell back from the opposite 
bank, and gave time for the harassed and miserable foot- 
men to cross in safety. The check, however, was but 
momentary. Indians were seen crossing in great numbers 
above and below, and the flight again became general. 
Most of the foot left the great buffalo track, and plunging 
into the thickets, escaped by a circuitous route to Bryant's 
station. 

But little loss was sustained after crossing the river, al- 
though the pursuit was urged keenly for twenty miles. 
From the battle ground to the ford, the loss was very 
heavy; and at that stage of the retreat, there occurred a 
rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it would 
be criminal to omit. The reader could not have forgotten 
young Reynolds, who replied with such rough but ready 
humor to the pompous summons of Girty, at the siege of 
Bryant's. This young man, after bearing his share in 
the action with distinguished gallantry, was galloping with 
several other horsemen in order to reach the ford. The 
great body of fugitives had preceded them, and their situ- 
ation was in the highest degree critical and dangerous. 

About half way betv/een the battle-ground and the river, 
the party overtook Captain Patterson, on foot, exhausted 
by the rapidity of the flight, and in consequence of former 
wounds received from the Indians, so infirm as to be una- 
ble to keep up with the main body of the men on foot, 
Th© Indians were close behind him, and his fate seemed 



DANIEL BOONE. 73 

inevitable. Reynolds, upon coming up with this brave o^ 
ficer, instantly sprung from his horse, aided Patterson to 
mount into the saddle, and continued his own flight on 
foot. Being remarkably active and vigorous, he contrived 
to elude his pursuers, and turning off fi-om the main road, 
plunged into the river near the spot where Boone haxi 
crossed, and swam in safety to the opposite side. Unfoi'- 
tunately, he wore a pair of buckskin breeches, which had 
become so heavy and full of water as to prevent his ex 
erting himself with his usual activity, and while sitting 
down for the purpose of pulling them off, he was overta- 
ken by a party of Indians, and made prisoner. 

A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, unless 
wounded or infirm, until they return to their own country; 
and then his fate is decided in solemn council. Young 
Reynolds, therefore, was treated kindly, and compelled to 
accompany his captors in the pursuit. A small party of 
Kentuckians, soon attracted their attention,* and he was 
left in charge of three Indians, who, eager in pursuit, in 
turn committed him to the charge of one of their number, 
while they followed their companions. Reynolds and his 
guard jogged along very leisurely; the former totally un- 
armed ; the latter, with a tomahawk and rifle in his hands. 
At length the Indian stopped to tie his moccasin, when 
Reynolds instantly sprung upon him, knocked him down 
with his fist, and quickly disappeared in the thicket which 
surrounded them. For this act of generosity, Captain 
Patterson afterwards made him a present of two hundred 
acres of first rate land. 

Late in the evening of the same day, most of the survi- 
vors arrived at Bryant's station. The melancholy intelli- 
gence spread rapidly throughout the country, and the whole 
land was covered with mourning. Sixty men had been 
killed in the battle and flight, and seven had been taken 
prisoners, part of whom were afterwards put to death by 
the Indians, as w^as said, to make their loss even. This 
account, however, appears very improbable. It is almost 
incredible that the Indians should have suflfered an equal 
loss. Their superiority of numbers, their advantage of 
position, (being in a great measure sheltered, while tbse 



74 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Kentuckiaiis, particularly the horsemen, were much expos- 
ed,) the extreme brevity of the battle, and the acknowl- 
edged bloodiness of the pursuit, all tend to contradict the 
report that the Indian loss exceeded ours. 

We have no doubt that some of the prisoners were mur- 
dered after arriving at their towns, but cannot believe that 
the reason assigned for so ordinary a piece of barbarity 
was the true one. Still, the execution done by the Ken- 
tuckians, while the battle lasted, seems to have been con- 
siderable, although far inferior to the loss which they 
themselves sustained. Todd and Trigg were a severe 
loss to their families, and to the country generally. They 
were men of a rank in life superior to the ordinary class 
of settlers, and generally esteemed for courage, probity, 
and intelligence. The death of Major Harland was deep- 
ly and universally regretted. A keen courage, united to 
a temper the most amiable, and an integrity the most in- 
corruptible, had rendered him extremely popular in the 
country. 

Together with his friend, McBride, he accompanieo. 
McGary in the van, and both fell in the commencement ol 
the action. McGary, notwithstanding the extreme expo- 
sure of his station, as leader of the van, and consequently 
most deeply involved in the ranks of the enemy, escaped 
without the slightest injury. This gentleman will ever 
be remembered, as associated with the disaster of which 
he was the immediate, although not the original cause. 
He has always been represented as a man of fiery and dar- 
ing courage, strongly tinctured with ferocity, and unsoft- 
ened by any of the humane and gentle qualities which 
awaken affection. In the hour of battle, his presence was 
invaluable ; but in civil life, the ferocity of his temper ren- 
dered him an unpleasant companion. 

Several years after the battle of the Blue Licks, a gen- 
tleman of Kentucky, since dead, fell in company with 
McGary at one of the circuit courts, and the conversation 
soon turned upon the battle. McGary frankly acknowl- 
edged that he, himself, was the immediate cause of the 
loss of blood on that day, and with great heat and energy, 
assigned his reasons for urgino^ on the battle. He said, 



DANIEL BOONE. 76 

. that in the hurried council which was held at Biy ant's on 
the ISth, he had strenuously urged Todd and Trigg to halt 
for twenty-four hours, assuring them, that with the aid of 
Logan, they would be able to follow them even to Chilli- 
cothe if necessary, and that their numbers theuj were too 
weak to encounter them alone. He offered, he said, to 
pledge his head, that the Indians would not return with 
such precipitation as w^as supposed, but would afford am- 
ple time to collect more force, and give them battle with 
a prospect of success. 

He added, that Colonel Todd scouted his arguments, and 
declared " that if a single day was lost, the Indians would 
never be overtaken, but would cross the Ohio and disperse; 
that now was the time to strike them, while they were in 
a body; that to talk of their numbers was nonsense — the 
more the merrier; that for his part he was determined to 
pursue without a moment's delay, and did not doubt that 
there were brave men enough on the ground, to enable him 
to attack them with effect." McGary declared "thathe felt 
somewhat nettled at the manner in which his advice had 
been received. That he thought Todd and Trigg jealous 
of Logan, who, as senior colonel, would be entitled to the 
command upon his arrival; and that, in their eagerness to 
have the honor of the victory to themselves, they were 
rashly throwing themselves into a condition, which would 
endanger the safety of the country. 

" However, sir,'' continued he, with an air of unamia- 
ble triumph, " when I saw the gentlemen so keen for a 
fight, I gave way, and joined in the pursuit, as willingly 
as any; but when v/e came in sight of the enemy, and the 
gentlemen began to talk of ' numbers,' ' position,' ' Logan,' 
and f waiting,' I burst into a passion, d — d them for a set 
of cowards, who could not be wise until they were scared 
into it, and swore that since they had come so far for a 
fight, they should figlit^ or I would disgrace them forever ! 
That when I spoke of waiting for Logan on the day be- 
fore, they had scouted the idea, and hinted something 
about 'courage' — that now it would be shown who had 
courage, or who v/ere d — d cowards, that could talk big 
when the enemy was at a distance, but turned pale when 



76 WESTERJN ADVEIsTUKE. 

danger was near. I then dashed into the river, and call- 
ed upon all who were not cowards to follow!" The gen- 
tleman upon whose authority this is given, added that, 
even then, McGary spoke with bitterness of the deceased 
colonels, and swore that they had received just what they 
deserved, and that he for one was glad of it. 

That the charge of McGary, in its full extent, was un- 
just, there can be no doubt; at the same time, it is in ac- 
cordance with the known principles of human nature, to 
suppose that the natural ardor of the officers, both young 
men, should be stimulated by the hope of gaining a victory, 
the honor of which would be given them as commanders. 
The number of the Indians was not distinctly known, and 
if their retreat had been ordinarily precipitate, they would 
certainly have crossed the Ohio before Logan could have 
joined. But, leaving a.11 the facts to speak for themselves, 
we will proceed with our narrative. 

On the very day in which this rash and unfortunate 
battle was fought. Colonel Logan arrived at Bryant's sta- 
tion, at the head of no less than four hundred and fifty 
men. He here learned that the little army had marched 
on the preceding day, without w^aiting for so strong and 
necessary a reinforcement. Fearful of some such disas- 
ter as had actually occurred, he urged his march with th^ 
utmost diligence, still hoping to overtake them before they 
could cross the Ohio; but within a few miles of the fort, 
he encountered the foremost of the fugitives, whose jaded 
horses, and harassed looks, announced but too plainly the 
event of the battle. 

As usual with men after a defeat they magnified the 
number of the enemy and the slaughter of their comrades. 
None knew the actual extent of their loss. They could only 
b6 certain of their own escape, and could give no account 
of their companions. Fresh stragglers constantly came up^ 
with the same mournful intelligence; so that Logan, after 
some hesitation, determined to return to Bryant's until all 
the survivers should come up. In the course of the even- 
ing, both horse and foot v/ere re-assembled at Bryant's, and 
the loss was distinctly ascertained. Although sufficiently 
severe, it was less than Logan had at first apprehended 



DANIEL BOONE 77 

and having obtained all the information which could be col- 
lected, as to the strength and probable destination of the 
enemy, he determined to continue his march to the battle 
ground, with the hope that success would embolden the 
enemy, and induce them to remain until his arrival. 

On the second day he reached the field. The enemy 
were gone^ but the bodies of the Kentuckians still lay un- 
buried, on the spot where they had fallen. Immense 
flocks of buzzards were soaring over the battle ground, 
and the bodies of the dead had become so much swollen 
and disfigured, that it was impossible to recognise the fea- 
tures of the most particular friends. Many corpses were 
floating near the shore of the northern bank, already pu- 
trid from the action of the sun, and partially eaten by 
fishes. The whole were carefully collected by order 
of Colonel Logan, and interred as decently as the na- 
ture of the soil would perm.it. Being satisfied that the 
Indians were by this time far beyond his reach, he then 
retraced his steps to Bryant's station and dismissed his 
men. 

As soon as intelligence of the battle of the Blue 
Licks reached Colonel George Rogers Clark, who then re- 
sided at the Falls of Ohio, he determined to set on foot 
an expedition against the Indian towns for the purpose 
both of avenging the loss of the battle, and rousing the 
spirit of the country, which had begun to sink into the 
deepest dejection. He proposed that one thousand men 
should be raised from all parts of Kentucky, and should 
rendezvous at Cincinnati, under the command of their re- 
spective officers, where he engaged to meet them at the 
head of a part of the Illinois regiment, then under his com- 
mand, together with one brass field-piece, which w^as 
regarded by the Indians with superstitious terror. The 
offer was embraced with great alacrity ; and instant meas- 
ures were taken for the collection of a sufficient number 
of volunteers. 

The whole force of the interior, was assembled under 
the command of Colonel Logan, and descending the Lick- 
ing in boats^ prepared for the purpose, arrived safely at 
the designated point of union, where they were joined by 



78 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Clark with the volunteers and regular detachment from 
below. No provision was made for the subsistence of the 
troops, and the sudden concentration of one thousand men 
and horses upon a single point, rendered it extremely dif- 
ficult to procure the necessary supplies. The woods 
abounded in game; but the rapidity and secrecy of their 
march, which was absolutely essential to the success of 
the expedition, did not allow them to disperse in search of 
it. They suffered greatly, therefore, from hunger as well 
as fatigue f but all being accustomed to privations of every 
kind, they prosecuted their march with unabated rapidity^ 
and appeared within a mile of one of their largest villages, 
without encountering a single Indian. 

Here, unfortunately, a straggler fell in with them, and 
instantly fled to the village, uttering the alarm whoop re^ 
peatedly in the shrillest and most startling tones. The 
troops pressed forward with great despatch, and entering 
their town found it totally deserted. The houses had evi- 
dently been abandoned only a few minutes before their 
arrival. Fires were burning, meat was upon the roasting 
sticks, and corn was still boiling in their kettles. The 
provisions were a most acceptable treat to the Kentucki- 
ans, who were well nigh famished, but the escape of their 
enemies excited deep and universal chagrin. 

After refreshing themselves, they engaged in the seri- 
ous business of destroying the property of the tribes with 
unrelenting severity. Their villages were burnt, their 
corn cut up, and their whole country laid waste. During 
the whole of this severe, but necessary occupation, scarcely 
an Indiaji was to be seen. The alarm had spread univer 
sally, and every village wks found deserted. Occasional- 
ly, a solitary Indian would crawl up within gunshot, and 
deliver his fire ; and once a small party mounted upon su 
perb horses, rode up with great audacity, within musket 
shot, and took a leisurely survey of the whole army, but 
upon seeing a detachment preparing to attack them, they 
galloped off with a rapidity which baffled pursuit. 

Boone accompanied this expedition, but as usual, has 
omitted every thing which relates to himself. Here the 
brief memoir of Boone closes. It doe« not appear that 



DANIEL BOONK 79 

he was afterwards engaged in any public expedition or 
solitary adventure. He continued a highly respectable 
citizen of Kentucky for several years, until the country 
became too thickly settled for his taste. As refinement 
of manners advanced, and the general standard of intelli- 
gence became elevated by the constant arrival of families 
of rank and influence, the rough old woodsman found 
himself entirely out of his element. He could neither 
read nor write; the all-engaging subject of politics, which 
soon began to agitate the country with great violence, was 
to him as a sealed book or an unknown language ; and for 
several years he v/andered among the living group which 
thronged the court-yard or the churches, like a venerable 
relic of other days. He was among them, but not of them! 
He pined in secret, for the wild and lonely forests of the 
west; for the immense prairie trodden only by the buftalo, 
or the elk; and became eager to exchange the listless lan- 
guor and security of a village, for the healthful exercises 
of the chase, or the more thrilling excitement of savage 
warfare. 

In 1792, he dictated his brief and rather dry memoirs 
to some young gentleman who could write, and who has 
garnished it with a few flourishes of rhetoric, which pass- 
ed off* upon the old woodsman as a precious morsel of elo- 
quence. He was never more gratified, than when he 
could sit and hear it read to him, by some one, who was 
willing at so small an expense to gratify the harmless van- 
ity of the kind-hearted old pioneer. He would listen with 
great earnestness, and occasionally rub his hands, smile, 
and ejaculate, "all true! every word true! — not a lie in 
it!" He shortly afterwards left Kentucky, and removed 
to Louisiana. Hunting was his daily amusement, and al- 
most his only occupation. 

Until the day of his death, (and he lived to an unusually 
advanced age,) he was in the habit of remaining for days 
at a time in the forest, at a distance from the abodes of 
men, armed with a rifle, hatchet, knife, and having flints 
and steel to enable him to kindle a fire, and broil the wild 
game upon which he depended for subsistence. When 
too old to wp,lk through the woods, as was his custom when 



80 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

young, he would ride to a lick, and there lay in ambush 
all day, for the sake of getting a shot at the herds of deer 
that were accustomed to visit the spot, for the sake of the 
salt. We have heard that he died in the woods, while lay- 
ing in ambush near a lick, but have not at present the 
means of ascertaining with certainty the manner of his 
death. 

He has left behind him a name strongly written in the 
annals of Kentucky, and a reputation for calm courage^ 
softened by humanity, conducted by prudence, and embel- 
lished by a singular modesty of deportment. His person 
was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather than ao 
tivity; his manner was cold, grave, and taciturn; his coun- 
tenance homely, but kind; his conversation unadorned, 
unobtrusive, and touching only upon the "needful." He 
never spoke of himself, unless particularly questioned^ 
but the written account of his life was the Delilah of hig 
imagination. The idea of "seeing his name in print,'' 
completely overcame the cold philosophy of his general 
manner, and he seemed to think it a masterpiece of com 
position. 



CHAPTER m 

SiMO^ Kenton was born in Fauquier county, Virginia, 
on the 15th of May, 1755, the ever memorable year of 
Braddock^s defeat. Of his early years nothing is known. 
His parents were poor, and until the age of sixteen, his 
days seem to have passed away in the obscure and labo- 
rious drudgery of a farm. He was never taught to read 
or write, and to this early negligence or inability on the 
part of his parents, is the poverty and desolation of his 
old age, in a great measure, to be attributed. At the age 
of sixteen, by an unfortunate adventure, he was launched 
into life with no other fortune, than a stout heart and a 
robust set of limbs. It seems, that young as he was, his 
Jieart had become entangled in the snares of a young oo- 



SIMON KENTON. 81 

quette in the neighborhood, who was grievously perplexed 
by the necessity of choosing one husband out of many 
lovers. 

Young Kenton, and a robust farmer by the name of 
Leitchman, seem to have been the most favored suitors^ 
and the young lady, not being able to decide upon their 
respective merits, they took the matter into their own 
hands, and, in consequence of foul play on the part of 
Leitchman's friends, young Kenton was beaten with great 
severity. He submitted to his fate, for the time, in silence, 
but internally vowed, that as soon as he had obtained his 
full growth, he would take ample vengeance upon his ri- 
val, for the disgrace which he had sustained at his hands. 
He waited patiently until the following spring, when find- 
ing himself six feet high, and full of health and action, he 
determined to delay the hour of retribution no longer. 

He accordingly walked over to Leitchman's house one 
morning, and finding him busily engaged in carrying shin- 
gles from the woods to his own house, he stopped him, told 
him his object, and desired him to adjourn to a spot more 
convenient for the purpose. Leitchman, confident in his 
superior age and strength, was not backv/ard in testifying 
his willingness to indulge him in so amiable a pastime, and 
having reached a solitary spot in the wood, they both strip- 
ped and prepared for the encounter. The battle was fought 
with all the fury, which mutual hate, jealousy, and hercu- 
lean power on both sides, could supply, and after a severe 
round, in which considerable damage was done and re- 
ceived, Kenton w^as brought to the ground. 

Leitchman (as usual in Virginia) sprung upon him with^ 
out the least scruple, and added the most bitter taunts, to 
the kicks with which he saluted him, from his head to his 
heels, reminding him of his former defeat, and rubbing 
salt into the raw wounds of jealousy, by triumphant allu- 
sions to his own superiority both in love and v/ar. Du- 
ring these active operations on the part of Leitchman, 
Kenton lay perfectly still, eying attentively a small bush 
which grew near them. It instantly occurred to him, 
that if he could wind Leitchman's hair, (which was re- 
markably long,) round this bush, he would be able to ve 



g2 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

turn those kicks which were now bestowed upon him ia 
such profusion. The difficulty was to get his antagonist 
near enough. 

This he at length effected in the good old Virginia style, 
viz : by biting him en anderej and compelling him, by 
short springs, to approach the bush, much as a bullock is 
goaded on to approach the fatal ring, where all his strug- 
gles are useless. When near enough, Kenton suddenly 
exerted himself violently, and succeeded in wrapping the 
long hair of his rival around the sapling. He then sprung 
to his feet, and inflicted a terrible revenge for all his pas4 
injuries. In a few seconds Leitchman was gasping, a|> 
parently in the agonies of death. Kenton instantly fled, 
without even returning for an additional supply of cloth- 
ing, and directed his steps westv/ard. 

During the first day of his journey, he traveled in much 
agitation. He supposed that Leitchman was dead, and 
that the hue and cry would instantly be raised after him- 
self as the murderer. The constant apprehension of a 
gallows, lent wings to his flight, and he scarcely allowed 
himself a moment for refreshment, until he had reached the 
neighborhood of the Warm Springs, where the settlements 
were thin, and the immediate danger of pursuit was over. 
Here he fortunately fell in with en exile from the state of 
New Jersey, of the name of Johnson, who was traveling 
westward on foot, and driving a single pack horse, laden 
with a few necessaries, before him. They soon became 
acquainted, related their adventures to each other, and 
agreed to travel together. 

They plunged boldly into the wilderness of the Alle^ 
ghany mountains, and subsisting upon wild game and a 
small quantity of flour, which Johnson had brought with 
him, they made no halt until they arrived at a small set- 
tlement on Cheat river, one of the prongs of the Monon- 
gahela. Here the two friends separated, and Kenton, 
(who had assumed the name of Butler,) attached himself 
to a small company headed by John Mahon and Jacob 
Greathouse, who had united for the purpose of exploring the 
country. They quickly built a large canoe, and descend* 
od the river as far as the Province's settlement. There 



SIMON KENTON. SB 

Kenton became acquainted with two young adventurers, 
Yager and Strader, the former of whom had been taken 
by the Indians when a child, and had spent many years in 
their village. 

He informed Kenton that there was a country below, 
which the Indians called Kan-tuck-ee, which was a pei-fect 
Elysium; that the ground was not only the richest, and 
the vegetation the most luxuriant in the world j but, that 
the immense herds of buffalo and elk, which ranged at 
large through its forests, would appear incredible to one 
who had never witnessed such a spectacle. He added, 
that it was entirely uninhabited, and was open to all who 
chose to hunt there; tlmt he himself had often accompanied 
the Indians in their grand hunting parties through the 
country, and was confident that he could conduct him to 
the same ground, if he was willing to venture. 

Kenton eagerly closed with the proposal, and announ- 
ced his readiness to accompany him immediately. A ca- 
noe was speedily procured, and the three young men com- 
mitted themselves to the waters of the Ohio, in search of the 
enchanted hunting ground, which Yager had visited in his 
youth, while a captive among the Indians. Yager had no 
idea of its exact distance from Province's settlement. He 
recollected only that he had crossed the Ohio in order to 
reach it, and declared that, by sailing down the river for 
a few days, they would come to the spot where the Indians 
were accustomed to cross, and assured Kenton that there 
would be no difficulty in recognizing it, that its appearance 
was different from all the rest of the world, &c. &c. 

Fired by Yager's glov/ing description of its beauty, and 
eager to reach this new El Dorado of the west, the young 
men rowed hard for several days, confidently expecting 
that every bend of the river would usher them into the 
land of promise. No such country, however, appeared; 
and at length Kenton and Strader became rather sceptical 
as to its existence at all. They rallied Yager freely upon 
the subject, who still declared positively that they w^ould 
soon wdtness the confirmation of all that he had said. Af- 
ter descending, however, as low as the spot where Man- 
chester now stands, and seeing nothing which resembled 



S4 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Yager's country, they held a council, in which it was de- 
termined to return, and survey the country more carefully; 
Yager still insisting, that they must have passed it in the 
night. They, accordingly, retraced their steps, and suc- 
cessively explored the land about Salt Lick, Little and 
Big Sandy, and Guyandotte. At length, being totally 
wearied out in searching for what had no existence, they 
turned their attention entirely to hunting and trapping, 
and spent nearly two yearS upon the great Kenawha, in 
this agreeable and profitable occupation. They obtained 
clothing in exchange for their furs, from the traders of 
fort Pitt, and the forest supplied them abundantly with 
wild game for food. 

In March, 1773, while reposing in their tent, after the 
labors of the day, they were suddenly attacked by a party 
of Lidians. S trader was killed at the first fire, and Ken- 
ton and Yager with difficulty effected their escape, being 
compelled to abandon their guns, blankets, and provisions, 
and commit themselves to the wilderness, without the 
means of sheltering themselves from the cold, procuring a 
morsel of food, or even kindling a fire. They v/ere far 
removed from any white settlement, and had no other pros- 
pect than that of perishing by famine, or falling a sacrifice 
to the fury of such Lidians as might chance to meet them. 
Reflecting, however, that it was never too late for men to 
be utterly lost, they determined to strike through the woods 
for the Ohio river, and take such fortune as it should please 
heaven to bestow. 

Directing their route by the barks of trees, they press- 
ed forward in a straight direction for the Ohio, and during 
the two first days allayed the piercing pangs of hunger by 
chewing such roots as they could find on their way. On 
the third day, their strength began to fail, and the keen 
appetite which, at first, had constantly tortured them, was 
succeeded by a nausea, accompanied with dizziness and a 
sinking of the heart, bordering on despair. On the fourth 
day, they often threw themselves upon the ground, deter- 
mined to await the approach of death ; and as often were 
stimulated, by the instinctive love of life, to arise and re- 
sume their journey. Oatiafi®!^ Iliey were completely ex 



SIMON KEJNTON. 85 

hausted and were able only to crawl, at intervals. In this 
manner, they traveled about a mile during the day, and 
succeeded, by sunset, in reaching the banks of the Ohio. 
Here, to their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party 
of traders, from whom they obtained a comfortable supply 
of provisions. 

The traders were so much startled at the idea of being 
exposed toperils, such as those which Kenton and Yager had 
just escaped, that they lost no time in removing from such 
a dangerous vicinity, and instantly returned to the mouth 
of the Little Kenawha, where they met v/ith Dr. Briscoe 
at the head of another exploring party. From him, Ken- 
ton obtained a rifle and some ammunition, with which he 
again plunged alone into the forest, and hunted with suc- 
cess until the summer of 1773 was far advanced. Return- 
ing, then, to the Little Kenawha, he found a party of 
fourteen men under the direction of Dr. Wood and Han- 
cock Lee, who were descending the Ohio with the view 
of joining Captain Bullitt, who was supposed to be at the 
mouth of Scioto, with a large party. 

Kenton instantly joined them, and descended the river in 
canoes as far as the Three Islands, landing frequently and 
examining the country on each side of the river. At the 
Three Islands they were alarmed by the approach of a 
large party of Indians, by whom they were compelled to 
abandon their canoes and strike diagonally through the 
wilderness for Greenbriar county, Virginia. They suffer- 
ed much during this journey from fatigue and famine, and 
were compelled at one time (notwithstanding the danger 
of their situation,) to hak for fourteen days and wait upon 
Dr. Wood, who had unfortunately been bitten by a copper- 
head snake, and rendered incapable of moving for that 
ength of time. Upon reaching the settlements the party 
separated. 

Kenton, not wishing to venture to Virginia, (having 
heard nothing of Leitchman's recovery,) built a canoe on 
the banks of the Monongahela, and returned to the mouth 
of the great Kenawha, hunted with success until the 
spring of 1774, when a war broke out between the Indian 
tribes and the colonies, occasioned, in a great measure, by 



^ WESTEim AT mrwRiL 

the murder of the celebrated eKief, Logan's family, by 
Captain Cressup. Kenton was not in the great battle 
near the mouth of the Kenawha, but acted as a spy^ 
throughout the whole of the campaign, in the course of 
which, he traversed the country around fort Pitt, and a 
large part of the present state of Ohio. 

When Dunmore's forces were disbanded, Kenton, in 
company with two others, determined on making a second 
effort to discover the rich lands bordering on the Ohio, of 
which Yager had spoken. Having built a canoe, and pro- 
vided themselves abundantly with ammunition, they de- 
scended the river as far as the mouth of Big Bone Creek, 
upon which the celebrated Lick of that name is situated. 
They there disembarked, and explored the country for 
several days; but not finding the land equal to their ex- 
pectations, they reascended the river as far as the mouth 
of Cabin Creek, a few miles above Maysville. 

From this point, they set out with a determination 
to examine the country carefully, until they could find 
land answering in some degree, to Yager's description 
In a short time, they reached the neighborhood of May's 
Lick, and for the first time were struck with the uncommon 
beauty of the country and fertility of the soil. Here they 
fell in with the great buffalo trace, which, in a few hours, 
brought them to the Lower Blue Lick. The flats upon 
each side of the river were crowded with immense herds 
of buffalo, that had come down from the interior for the 
sake of the salt; and a number of elk were seen up- 
on the bare ridges which surrounded the springs. Their 
great object was now achieved. They had discovered a 
country far more rich than any which they had yet beheld, 
and where the game seemed as abundant as the grass of 
the plain. 

After remaining a few days at the Lick, and killing ar> 
immense number of deer and buffalo, they crossed the Lick- 
ing, and passed through the present counties of Scott, 
Fayette, Woodford, Clarke, Montgomer}^, and Bath; when, 
falling in with another buffalo trace, it conducted them U 
the Upper Blue Lick, where they again beheld elk am 
b^^alo in immense numbers. ^li^hly gratified at th« sue^ 



SIMON KENTON. 87 

eess of their expedition, they quickly returned to theii 
canoe, and ascended the river as far as Green Bottom, 
where they had left their skins, some ammunition, and a 
few hoes, which they had procured at Kenawha, with the 
view of cultivating the rich ground which they expected 
to find. 

Returning as quickly as possible, they built a cabin on 
the spot where the town of Washington now stands, and 
having cleared an acre of ground, in the center of a large 
canebrake, they planted it with Indian corn. Strolling 
about the country in veirious directions, they one day fell 
in with two white men near the Lower Blue Lick, who had 
lost their guns, blankets, and ammunition, and were much 
distressed for provisions and the means of extricating 
themselves from the wilderness. They informed them 
that there names were Fitzpatrick and Hendricks; that, 
in descending the Ohio, their canoe had been overset by 
a sudden squall; and that they were compelled to swim 
ashore, without being able to save any thing from the 
wreck; that they had wandered thus far through the woods, 
in the effort to penetrate through the country, to the set?- 
tlements above, but must infallibly perish, unless they 
could be furnished with guns and ammunition. 

Kenton informed them of the small settlement which 
he had opened at Washington, and invited them to join 
him and share such fortune as Providence might bestow. 
Hendricks consented to remain, but Fitzpatrick, being heaxi 
tily sick of the woods, insisted upon returning to the Monon- 
g*ahela. Kenton and his two friends, accompanied Fitzpatrick 
to " the point," as it was then called, being the spot where 
Maysville now stands, and having given him a gun, &c., 
assisted him in crossing the river, and took leave of him 
on the other side. 

In the mean time, Hendricks had been left at the Blue 
Lick, without a gun, but with a good supply of provisions, 
until the party could return from the river. As soon as 
Fitzpatrick had gone, Kenton and his two friends hasten- 
ed to return to the Lick, not doubting for a moment, that 
they would find Hendricks in camp as they had left him. 
Upon arriving at the point where the tent had stood, how 



38 WESTERN AI^^ENTURE. 

ever, they were alarmed at finding it deserted, with evi- 
dent marks of violence around it. Several bullet hoies 
were to be seen in the poles of which it was constructed, 
and various articles belonging to Hendricks, were tossed 
about in too negligent a manner to warrant the belief that 
it had been done by him. 

At a little distance from the camp, in a low ravine, 
they observed a thick smoke, as if from a fire just be- 
inning to burn. They did not doubt for a moment, 
hat Hendricks had fallen into the hands of the Indians, 
and believing that a party of them were then assembled 
around the fire which was about to be kindled, they betook 
themselves to their heels, and fled faster and farther, than 
true chivalry perhaps would justify. They remained at 
a distance until the evening of the next day, when they 
ventured cautiously to return to camp. The fire was still 
burning, although faintly, and after carefully reconnoiter- 
ing the adjacent ground, they ventured at length to ap- 
proach the spot, and there beheld the skull and bones of 
their unfortunate friend ! 

He had evidently been roasted to death by a party of In- 
dians, and must have been alive at the time when Kenton 
and his companions approached on the preceding day. It 
was a subject of deep regret to the party, that they had 
not reconnoitered the spot more closely, as it was probable 
that their friend might have been rescued. The number 
of Indians might have been small, and a brisk and unex- 
pected attack might have dispersed them. Regret, how- 
ever, was now unavailing, and they sadly retraced their 
steps to their camp at Washington, pondering upon the 
uncertainty of their own condition, and upon the danger 
to which they were hourly exposed from the numerous 
baiids of hostile Indians, who were prowling around them 
in every direction. 

They remained at Washington, entirely undisturbed, 
until the m.onth of September, when again visiting the 
Lick, they saw a white man, who informed them that the 
interior of the country was already occupied by the 
whites, and that there was a thriving settlement at Boones- 
borough. Highly gratified at this intelligence, and an»- 



n 



SIMON KENTON, 89 

lous once more to enjoy the society of men, they broke 
up their encampment at Washington, and visited the 
different stations which had been formed in the country. 
Kenton sustained two sieges in Boonesborough, and served 
as a spy, with equal diligence and success, until the 
summer of 1778, when Boone, returning from captivity, 
as has already been mentioned, concerted an expedition 
against the small Indian town on Paint Creek. 

Kenton acted as a spy on this expedition, and after 
crossing the Ohio, being some distance in advance of the 
rest, he was suddenly startled by hearing a loud laugh 
from an adjoining thicket, which he was just about to en- 
ter. Instantly halting, he took his station behind a tree, 
and waited anxiously for a repetition of the noise. In a 
few minutes, two Indians approached the spot where he 
lay, both mounted upon a small pony, and chatting and 
laughing in high good humor. Having permitted them to 
approach within good rifle distance, he raised his gun, 
and aiming at the breast of the foremost, pulled the 
trigger. Both Indians fell ; one shot dead, the other severe- 
ly wounded. 

Their frightened pony galloped back into the cane, giv- 
ing the alarm to the rest of the party who were some distance 
in the rear. Kenton instantly ran up to scalp the dead man 
and to tomahawk his wounded companion, according to the 
usual rule of western warfare ; but, when about to put an 
end to the struggles of the wounded Indian, who did not 
seem disposed to submit very quietly to the operation, his 
attention was attracted by a rustling of the cane on his 
right, and turning rapidly in that direction, he beheld two 
Indians within twenty steps of him, very deliberately ta- 
king aim at his person. A quick spring to one side, on 
his part, was instantly followed by the flash and report of 
their rifles ; the balls whistled close to his ears, causing him 
involuntarily to duck his head, but doing him no injury. 

Not liking so hot a neighborhood, and ignorant of the 
number which might yet be behind, he lost no time in re- 
gaining the shelter of the wood, leaving the dead Indian 
unscalped, and the wounded man to the care of his friends. 
Scarcely had he treed, when a dozen Indians appeared on 



go WESTERJN ADVENTURE. 

the edge of the canebrake, and seemed disposed to press 
upon him with more vigor than was consistent with the 
safety of his present position. His fears however, were 
instantly relieved by the appearance of Boone and his 
party, who came running up as rapidly as a due regard to 
the shelter of their persons would permit, and opening a 
brisk fire upon the Indians, quickly compelled them to re- 
gain the shelter of the canebrake, with the loss of several 
wounded, who, as usual, were carried off. The dead In- 
dian, in the hurry of the retreat was abandoned, and Ken- 
ton at last had the gratification of taking his scalp ' 

Boone, as has already been mentioned, instantly re- 
traced his steps to Boonesborough ; but Kenton and his 
friend Montgomery, determined to proceed alone to the 
Indian town, and at least obtain some recompense for the 
trouble of their journey. Approaching the village with 
the cautious and stealthy pace of the cat or panther, they 
took their stations upon the edge of the cornfield, supposing 
that the Indians would enter it as usual to gather roas ting- 
ears. They remained here patiently all day, but did not 
see a single Indian, and heard only the voices of some 
children who were playing near them. Being disappoint- 
ed in the hope of getting a shot, they entered the Indian 
town in the night, and stealing four good horses, made a 
rapid night's march for the Ohio, which they crossed in 
safety, and on the second day afterwards, reached Logan's 
fort with their booty. 

Scarcely had he returned, when Colonel Bowman order- 
ed him to take his fi-iend Montgomery, and another young 
man named Clark, and go on a secret expedition to an In- 
dian town on the Little Miami, against which the Colonel 
meditated an expedition, and of the exact condition of 
which he wished to have certain information. They in- 
stantly set out, in obedience to their orders,^ and reached 
the neighborhood of the to^vn without being discovered. 
They examined it attentively, and walked around the 
houses during the night with perfect impunity. Thus far 
all had gone well,* and had they been contented to return 
after the due execution of their orders, they would have 
avoided the heavv calamity which awaited them. 



But, un^tanately, durmg their nightly promenade, 
they stumbled upon a pound in which were a number of In- 
dian horses. The temptation was not to,be resisted. They 
each mounted a horse, but not satisfied with that, ithey 
could not find it in their hearts to leave a single animal 
behind them, and as some of the horses seemed indisposed 
to change masters, the affair was attended with so much 
fracas, that at last they were discovered. The cry ran 
through the village at once, that the Long Knives were 
stealing their horses right before the doors of their v/ig- 
wams, and old and young, squaws, boys, and w^arriors, all 
sallied out with loud screams to save their property from 
these greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends quickly 
discovered that they had overshot the mark, and that they 
must ride for their lives; but even in this extremity, they 
could not bring themselves to give up a single horse which 
they had haltered, and while two of them rode in front and 
led, I know not how many horses, the other brought up the 
rear, and plying his w^hip from right to left, did not permit 
a single animal to lag behind. 

In this manner they dashed through the woods at a fxi- 
rious rate with the hue and cry after them, until their course 
was suddenly stopped by an impenetrable swamp. Here, 
from necessity, they paused for a few moments and listen- 
ed attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, they re- 
sumed their course, and skirting the swamp for some dis- 
tance, in the vain hope of crossing it, they bent their course 
in a straight direction towards the Ohio. They rode du- 
ring the whole night without resting a moment — and halt- 
ing for a few minutes at day-light, they continued their 
journey throughout the day, and the whole of the follow- 
ing night, and by this uncommon expedition, on the morn- 
ing of the second day they reached the northern bank of 
the Ohio. ' 

Crossing the river would nov/ ensure their safety, but 
this was likely to prove a difficult undertaking, and the 
close pursuit which they had reason to expect, rendered it 
necessary to lose as little time as possible. The wind 
was high and the river rough and boisterous. It was de- 
tennined that Ken top shc'^kJ cross with Ate horses, while 



92 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Clark and Montgomery should construct a raft in order to 
transport their guns, baggage and ammunition to the op- 
posite shore. The necessary preparations were soon 
made, and Kenton, after forcing his horses into the river, 
plunged in himself and swam by their side. In a very few 
minutes the high waves completely overwhelmed him and 
forced him considerably below the horses, that stemmed 
the current much more vigorously than himself. 

The horses being thus left to themselves, turned about, 
and swam again to the Ohio shore, where Kenton was 
compelled to follow them. Aga^in he forced them into th© 
water — and again they returned to the same spot, until 
Kenton became so exhausted by repeated efforts, as to be 
unable to swim. A council was then held and the ques- 
tion proposed "what was to be done?" That the Indians 
would pursue them, was certain ; that the horses would not, 
and could not be made to cross the river in its present 
state, was equally certain. Should they abandon their 
horses and cross on the raft, or remain with their horses 
and take such fortune as heaven should send them? The 
latter alternative was unanimously adopted. Death op 
captivity might be tolerated — -but the loss of so beautiful 
a lot of horses, after having worked so hard for them, was 
not to be thought of for a moment. 

As soon as it was determined that themselves and hor- 
ses were to share the same fate, it again became necessa- 
ry to fix upon some probable plan of saving them. Should 
they move up or down the river, or remain where they 
were? The latter course was adopted. It was supposed 
that the wind would fall at sunset, and the river become 
sufficiently calm to admit of their passage, and as it was 
supposed probable that the Indians might be upon them 
before night, it was determined to conceal the horses in a 
neighboring ravine, while they should take their stations 
in the adjoining wood. A more miserable plan could not 
have been adopted. If they could not consent to sacrifice 
their horses, in order to save their own lives, they should 
have moved either up or down the river, and thus have 
preserved the distance from the Indians which their rapidi- 
ty of movement had gained, 



SIMON KENTOJN*. 93 

The Indians would have followed their trail, and being 
twenty four hours march behind them, could never have 
overtaken them. But neglecting this obvious considera- 
tion, they stupidly sat down until sunset, expecting that the 
river would become more calm. The day passed away in 
tranquility, but at night the wind blew harder than ever, 
and the water became so rough, that even their raft would 
have been scarcely able to cross. Not an instant more 
should hcive been lost, in moving from so dangerous a post; 
but as if totally infatuated, they remained where they 
were until morning; thus wasting twenty-four hours of 
most precious time in total idleness. In the morning, 
the wind abated, and the river became calm — but it was 
now too late. Their horses, recollecting the difficulty of 
the passage on the preceding day, had become as obstinate 
and heedless as their masters, and positivel)^ and repeat- 
edly refused to take the water. 

Finding every effort to compel them, entirely unavailing, 
their masters at length determined to do what ought to 
have been done at first. Each resolved to mount a horse 
and make the best of his way down the river to Louis- 
ville. Had even this resolution, however tardily adop- 
ted, been executed with decision, the party would prob- 
ably have been saved, but after they were mounted, instead 
of leaving the ground instantly, they went back upon" 
their own trail, in the vain effort to regain possession of 
the rest of then* horses, which had broken from them in 
the last effort to drive them into the water. They wea- 
ried out their good genius, and literally fell victims to 
their love for horse-flesh. 

They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards, (Kenton 
in the center, the others upon the flanks, with an interval 
of two hundred yards betweeji them,) when Kenton heard 
a loud halloo, apparently coming from the spot which they 
had just left. Instead of getting out of the way as fast 
as possible, and trusting to the speed of his horse and the 
hickness of the wood for safety, he put the last capping 
stone to his imprudence, and dismounting, walked leisure- 
ly back to meet his pursuers, and thus give them as little 
trouble as possible. He quickly beheld three Indians, and 



94 WsiSCSS^ ADVENTIJRE. 

one white man, all well mounted. Wishing to give th^ 
alarm to his companions, he raised his rifle to his shoulder, 
took a steady aim at the breast of the foremost Indian, 
and drew the trigger. His gun had become wet on the 
raft and flashed. 

The enemy were instantly alarmed, and dashed at him. 
Now, at last, when flight could be of no service, Kenton 
betook himself to his heels, and was pursued by four horse- 
men at full speed. He instantly directed his steps to the 
thickest part of the wood, where there was much fallen 
timber and a rank growth of underwood, and had succee- 
ded, as he thought, in bafl[ling his pursuers, when, just as 
he was leaving the fallen timber and entering the open 
wood, an Indian on horseback galloped round the corner 
of the wood, and approached him so rapidly as to render 
flight useless. The horseman rode up, holding out his 
hand and calling out "brother! brother!" in a tone of great 
aflfection. Kenton observes that if his gun would have 
made fire, he would have " brothered" him to his heart's 
content, but being totally unarmed, he called out that he 
would surrender if they would give him quarter and good 
treatment. 

Promises were cheap with the Indian, and he showered 
them out by the dozen, continuing all the while to advance 
with extended hands and a writhing grin upon his coun- 
tenance, which was intended for a smile of courtesy. 
Seizing Kenton's hand, he grasped it with violence. Ken- 
ton, not liking the manner of his captor, raised his gun 
to knock him down, when an Indian who had followed him 
closely through the brushwood, instantly sprung upon his 
back and pinioned his arms to his side. The one who had 
just approached him, then seized him by the hair and 
shook him until his teeth rattled, while the rest of the 
party coming up, they all fell Upon Kenton with their 
tongues and ramrods, until he thought they would scold 
or beat him to death. They were the awners of the hor- 
ses which he had carried off*, and now took ample revenge 
for the loss of their property. At every stroke of their 
ramrods over his head, (and they were neither few nor far 



SIMON KEKTON. 95 

between,) they would repeat ipx a tone of strong indigna- 
tion, "steal Indian boss!! hey!!" 

Their attention, however, was soon directed to Mont 
gomery, who, having heard the noise attending Kenton's 
capture, very gallantly hastened up to his assistance ; while 
Clark very prudently consulted his own safety in betaking 
himself to his heels, leaving his unfortunate companions to 
shift for themselves. Montgomery halted within gunshot and 
appeared busy with the pan of his gun, as if preparing to 
fire. Two Indians instantly sprung off in pursuit of him, 
while the rest attended to Kenton. In a few minutes 
Kenton heard the crack of two rifles in quick succession, 
followed by a halloo, which announced the fate of his 
friend. The Indians quickly returned, waving the bloody 
scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and gestures 
which menaced him with a similar fate. 

They then proceeded to secure their prisoner. They 
first compelled him to lie upon his back, and stretched out 
his arms to their full length. They then passed a stout 
stick at right angles across his breast, to each extremity 
of which his wrists were fastened by thongs made of Buf- 
falo's hide. Stakes were then driven into the earth, near 
his feet, to which they were fastened in a similar manner^ 
A halter was then tied around his neck, and fastened to a 
sapling which grew near, and finally a strong rope w^as 
passed under his belly, lashed strongly to the pole which 
lay transversely upon his breast, and finally wrapped 
around his arms at the elbows, in such a manner as to pin- 
ion them to the pole with a painful violence, and render 
him literally incapable of moving hand, foot, or head, in 
the slightest manner. 

During the whole of this severe operation, neither 
their tongues nor hands were by any means idle. They 
cuffed him from time to time with great heartiness, until 
his ears rung again, and abused him for a "tief! — a boss 

steal ! — a rascal !" and finally, for a " d- d white man!'' 

I may here observe, that all the western Indians had pick- 
ed up a good many English words, particularly our oaths, 
which, from the frequency with which they were used by 
our hunters and traders, they probably looked upon as 



96 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the very root and foundation of the English language. 
Kenton remained in this painful attitude throughout the 
night, looking forward to certain death, and most probably 
torture, as soon as he should reach their towns. Their 
i-age against him seemed to increase rather than abate, 
from indulgence, and in the morning it displayed itself in 
a form at once ludicrous and cruel. 

Among the horses which Kenton had taken, and which 
their original owners had now recovered, was a fine but 
wild young colt, totally unbroken, and with all his honors 
of mane and tail undocked. Upon him, Kenton was 
mounted, without saddle or bridle, with his hands tied be- 
hind him, and his feet fastened under the horse's belly. 
The country was rough and bushy, and Kenton had no 
means of protecting his face from the brambles, through 
which it was expected that the colt would dash. As soon 
as the rider was firmly fastened to his back, the colt was 
turned loose with a sudden lash, but after exerting a few 
curvetts and caprioles, to the great distress of his rider, 
but to the infinite amusement of the Indians, he appeared 
to take compassion on his rider, and falling into a line 
with the other horses, avoided the brambles entirely, and 
went on very well. In this manner he rode through the 
day. At night he was taken from the horse and confined 
as before. 

On the third day, they came within a few miles of Chilli- 
cothe. Here the party halted, and despatched a messen^ 
ger to inform the village of their arrival, in order, I sup- 
pose, to give them time to prepare for his reception. In 
a short time Blackfish, one of their chiefs, arrived, and re- 
garding Kenton with a stern countenance, thundered out 
in very good English, "you have been stealing horses ?** 
<fYes sir.'' "Did Captain Boone tell you to steal our 
torses?" "No sir; I did it of my own accord." This frank 
confession was two irritating to be borne. Blackfish 
made no reply, but brandishing a hickory switch, which 
he held in his hand, he applied it so briskly to Kenton's 
naked back and shoulders, as to bring the blood freely, and 
©ceasion acute pain. 

Thus, alternately beaten and scolded, he marched on to 



SIMON KETsTOK. gy 

the village. At the distance of a mile from Chillicothe, 
he saw every inhabitant of the town, men, women, and 
children, running out to feast their eyes v/ith a view of 
•the prisoner. Every individual, down to the smallest 
child, appeared m a paroxysm of rage. They v/hooped, 
they yelled, they hooted, they clapped their hands, and 
poured upon him a flood of abuse to which all that he had 
yet received, was gentleness and civility. With loud 
cries, they demanded that their prisoner should be tied to 
the stake. The hint was instantly complied with. 

A stake was quickly fastened into the ground. The 
remnant of Kenton's shirt and breeches were torn from 
his person, (the squaws officiating with great dexterity in 
both operations,) and his hands being tied together, and 
raised above his head, were fastened to the top of the 
stake. The whole party then danced around him until 
midnight, yelling and screaming in their usual frantic 
manner, striking him with switches, and slapping him with 
the palms of their hands. He expected every moment to 
undergo the torture of fire, but /^a^ was reserved for another 
time. They wished to prolong the pleasure of tormenting 
nim as much as possible, and after having caused him to 
anticipate the bitterness of death, until a late hour of the 
night, they released him from the stake and conveyed him 
to the village. 

Early in the morning he beheld the scalp of Montgom- 
ery stretched upon a hoop, and drying in the air, before the 
door of one of their principal houses. He was quickly led 
out and ordered to run the gauntlet. A row of boys, wo- 
men, and men, extended to the distance of a quarter of a 
mile. At the starting place, stood two grim looking war- 
rioi-s, with butcher knives in their hands ; at the extremity 
of the line, was an Indian beating a drum ; and a few pa- 
ces beyond the drum, was the door of the council house. 
Clubs, switches, hoe-handles, and tomahawks were bran- 
dished along the whole line, causing the sweat involun^ 
tarily to stream from his pores, at the idea of the discipline 
which his naked skin was to receive during the race. 

The moment for starting arrived; the great drum at the 
door of the council house was struck; and Kenton sprung 



98 WESTERIM ADVEKTtJRE. 

forward in the race. A scene, precisely resembling a 
splendid picture in the Last of the Mohicans, now took 
place. Kenton avoided the row of his enemies, and turn 
ing to the east, drew the whole party in pursuit of him. 
He doubled several times with great activity, and at 
length observing an opening, he darted through it, and 
pressed forward to the council house with a rapidity 
which left his pursuers far behind. One or two of the In- 
dians succeeded in throwing themselves between him and 
the goal, and from these alone he received a few blows, 
but was much less injured than he could at first have sup- 
posed possible. 

As soon as the race was over, a council was held in or- 
der to determine whether he should be burnt to death on 
the spot, or carried round to the other villages, and exhibit* 
ed to every tribe. The arbiters of his fate, sat in a cir- 
cle on the floor of the council house, while the unhappy 
prisoner, naked and bound, was committed to the care of 
a guard in the open air. The deliberation commenced. 
Each warrior sat in silence, while a large war club was 
passed round the circle. Those who were opposed to 
burning the prisoner on the spot, were to pass the club in 
silence to the next warrior, those in favor of burning, 
were to strike the earth violently with the club before 
passing it. 

A teller was appointed to count the votes. This dig- 
nitary quickly reported that the opposition had prevailed; 
that his execution was suspended for the present; and 
that it was determined to take him to an Indian town on 
Mad river, called Waughcotomoco. His fate was quickly 
announced to him by a renegade white man, who acted as 
interpreter. Kenton felt rejoiced at the issue — but nat- 
urally became anxious to know what was in reserve for him 
at Waughcotomoco. He accordingly asked the white man 
"what the Indians intended to do with him, upon reach- 
ing the appointed place?" "Burn you! G — d d n 

you!!!" was the ferocious reply. He asked no farther 
question, and the scowling interpreter walked away. 

Instantly preparations were made for his departure, and 
to kti gr©at joy, as well as astonishment, his clothes wei^e 



SlMOlX KEiNTOlS. 99 

restored to him^ and he was permitted to remain unbound. 
Thanks to the ferocious intimation of the interpreter, he 
was aware of the fate in reserve for him, and secretly de- 
termined that he would never reach Waughcotomoco alive 
if it was possible to avoid it. Their route lay through an 
unpruned forest, abounding in thickets and undergrowth. 
Unbound as he was, it would not be impossible to escape 
from the hands of his conductors; and if he could once 
enter the thickets, he thought that he might be enabled to 
baffle his pursuers. At the worst, he could only be reta- 
ken — and the fire would burn no hotter after an attempt 
to escape, than before. During the whole of their march, 
he remained abstracted and silent; often meditating an 
effort for liberty, and as often shrinking from the peril of 
the attempt. 

At length he was aroused from his reverie, by the Indi- 
ans firing off their guns, and raising the shrill scalp halloo. 
The signal was soon answered, and the deep roll of a 
drum was heard far in front, announcing to the unhappy 
prisoner, that they were approaching an Indian town v/here 
the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake awaited him. 
The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes which he 
had already encountered, completely banished the indecis- 
ion which had hitherto withheld him, and with a sudden 
and startling cry, he sprung into the bushes and fled with 
the speed of a wild deer. The pursuit was instant and 
keen, some on foot, some on horseback. But he was fly* 
ing for his life ; the stake and the hot iron, and the burn- 
ing splinters, were before his eyes, and he soon distanced 
the swiftest hunter that pursued him. 

But fate was against him at every turn. Thinking only 
of the enemy behind, he forgot that there might also be 
enemies before ; and before he was aware of what he had 
done, he found that he had plunged into the center of a 
fresh party of horsemen, who had sallied from the town at 
the firing of the guns, and happened unfortunately to 
stumble upon the poor prisoner, now making a last effort 
for freedom. His heart sunk at once from the ardor of hope, 
to the very pit of despair, and he was again haltered and 
driven be«for© them to ^wn like an ox to tl»« slaughter-house. 



100 WESTERN ADVEI^TURE. 

Upon reaching the village, (Pickaway,) he v/as fastened 
to a stake near the door of the council house, and the war- 
riors again assembled in debate. In a short time, they 
issued from the council house, and surrounding him, they 
danced, yelled, &c. for several hours, giving him once more 
a foretaste of the bitterness of death. On the following 
morning, their journey was continued, but the Indians had 
now become watchful, and gave him no opportunity of 
even attempting an escape. On the second day, he ar- 
rived at Waughcotomoco. Here he v/as again compelled 
to run the gauntlet, in which he was severely hurt: and 
immediately after this ceremony, he was taken to the 
council house, and all the warriors once more assembled 
to determine his fate. 

He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, 
awaiting the moment which was to deliver him to the 
stake, when the door of the council house opened, and 
Simon Girty, James Girty, John Ward, and an Indian, 
came in with a woman (Mrs. Mary Kennedy,) as a prisoner, 
together with seven children and seven scalps. Kenton was 
instantly removed from the council house, and the delibera- 
tions of the assembly were protracted to a very late hour, 
in consequence of the arrival of the last named party 
with a fresh drove of prisoners. 

At length he was again summoned to attend the coun- 
cil house, being informed that his fate was decided. Re- 
garding the mandate as a mere prelude to the stake and 
fire, which he knew was intended for him, he obeyed it 
with the calm despair which had now succeeded the burn- 
ing anxiety of the last few days. Upon entering the 
council house, he was greeted with a savage scowl, which, 
if he had still cherished a spark of hope, would have com- 
pletely extinguished it. Simon Girty threw a blanket up- 
on the floor, and harshly ordered him to take a seat upon 
it. The order was not immediately complied with, and 
Girty impatiently seizing his arm, jerked him roughly upon 
the blanket, and pulled him down upon it. 

In the same rough and menacing tone, Girty then in- 
terrogated him as to the condition of Kentucky. " How 
ttiaay me» are thora m Ksm^M/^yV^ ^^It is impossible 



SIMOK CEHTON. 101 

for me to answer that ques^don," replied Kenton, <« but I 
can tell you the number of officers and their respective 
ranks; you can then judge for yourself." '«Do you know 
William Stewart?" "Perfectly well; he is an old and in- 
timate acquaintance." " What is your own name?" " Si- 
mon Bjtler!" replied Kenton. Never did the annuncia- 
tion of a name produce a more powerful effect. Girtyand 
Kenton (then bearing the name of Butler,) had served as 
soies together, in Dunmore*s expedition. The former had 
not then abandoned the society of the whites for that of 
the savages, and had become warmly attached to Kenton du- 
ring the short period of their services together. As soon 
as he heard the name he became strongly agitated; and, 
springing from his seat, he threw his arms around Ken- 
ton's neck, and embraced him with much emotion. 

Then turning to the assembled warriors, who remained 
astonished spectators of this extraordinary scene, he ad- 
dressed them in a short speech, which the deep earnest- 
ness of his tone, and the energy of his gesture, rendered 
eloquent. He informed them that the prisoner, whom 
they had just condemned to the stake, was his ancient com- 
rade and bosom friend: that they had traveled the same 
war path, slept upon the same blanket, and dwelt in the 
same wigwam. He entreated them to have compassion 
upon his feelings; to spare him the agony of witnessing 
the torture of an old friend, by the hands of his adopted 
brothers ; and not to refuse so trifling a favor as the life of 
a white man, to the earnest intercession of one who had 
proved by three years faithful service, that he was sincere- 
ly and zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians. 

The speech was listened to, in unbroken silence. As 
fioon as he had finished, several chiefs expressed their ap- 
probation by a deep guttural interjection, while others were 
equally as forward in making known their objections to 
the proposal. They urged that his fate had already been 
determined in a large and solemn council, and that they 
woulr be acting like squaws to change their minds every 
hour. They insisted upon the flagrant misdemeanors of 
Kenton ; that he had not /»nly stolen their horses, but had 
flashed his ^un at mie of ^ \eir young men ; that it was in 



102 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

vain to suppose that so bad a man could ever become an 
Indian at heart, like their brother Girty; that the Keiv* 
tuckians vi^ere all alike, very bad people, and ought to be 
killed as fast as they were taken; and, finally, they ob^ 
served that many of their people had come from a distance, 
solely to assist at the torture of the prisoner, and patheti* 
cally painted the disappointment and chagrin with which 
they would hear that all their trouble had been for noti^ 
ing. 

Girty listened with obvious impatience to the young 
warriors, who had so ably argued against a reprieve — and 
starting to his feet, as soon as the others had concluded, 
he urged his former request with great earnestness. He 
briefly, but strongly recapitulated his own services, and 
the many and weighty instances of attachment which he 
had given. He asked if he could be suspected of partial- 
ity to the whites? When had he ever before interceded 
for any of that hated race? Had he not brought seven 
scalps home with him from the last expedition ? and had he 
not submitted seven white prisoners that very evening to 
their discretion? Had he expressed a wish that a single 
one of the captives should be saved? This was his first 
and should be his last request: for if they refused to him^ 
what was never refused to the intercession of one of their 
natural chiefs, he would look upon himself as disgraced in 
their eyes, and considered as unworthy of confidence. 
Which of their own natural warriors had been more zeal- 
ous than himself? From what expedition had he ever 
shrunk? what white man had ever seen his back? Whose 
tomahawk had been bloodier than his ? He would say no 
more. He asked it as a first and last favor; as an evidence 
that they approved of his zeal and fidelity, that the life of 
his bosom friend might be spared. Fresh speakers arose 
upon each side, and the debate was carried on for an hour 
and a half with great heat and energy. 

During the whole of this time, Kenton's feelings may 

eadily be imagined. He could not understand a syllable 

of what was said. He saw that Girty spoke with deep 

earnestness, and that the eyes of the assembly were often 

turned upon himself with various expressions. He felt 



mUQJ KENTON, 108 

satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, and that 
he was violently opposed by a large part of the council 
At length, the war club was produced and the final vote 
taken. Kenton watched its progress with thrilling emo- 
tion, which yielded to the most rapturous delight, as he 
perceived, that those who struck the floor of the council 
house, were decidedly inferior in number to those who 
passed it in silence. Having thus succeeded in his be- 
nevolent purpose, Girty lost no time in attending to the 
comfort of his friend. He led him into his own wigwam, 
and from his own store gave him a pair of moccasins and 
leggins, a breech-cloth, a hat, a coat, a handkerchief for 
his neck, and another for his head. 

The whole of this remarkable scenp is in the highest 
degree honorable to Girty, and is in striking contrast to 
most of his conduct after his union with the Indians. No 
man can be completely hardened, and no character is at 
all times the same. Girty had been deeply ofiended with 
the whites ; and knowing that his desertion to the Indiana 
had been universally and severely reprobated, and that he 
himself was regarded with detestation by his former coun- 
trymen, he seems to have raged against them from these 
causes, with a fury which resembled rather the paroxysm 
of a maniac, than the deliberate cruelty of a naturally fe- 
rocious temper. Fierce censure never reclaims, but rath- 
er drives to still greater extremities; and this is the rea- 
son that renegadoes are so much fiercer than natural foes — 
and that when females fall, they fall irretrievably. 

For the space of three weeks, Kenton lived w perfect 
tranquillity, Girty's kindness was uniform and indefati- 
gable. He introduced Kenton to his own family, and ac- 
companied him to the wigwams of the principal chiefs, 
who seemed all at once to have turned from the extremity 
of rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality Fortune, 
however, seemed to have selected him for her football, and 
to have snatched him from the frying pan only to throw 
him into the fire. About twenty days after his most provi- 
dential deliverance from the stake, he was walking in com- 
pany with Girty and an Indian named Redpole, when an- 
other Indian came from the village towards them, uttering 



104 TTESTERK ADVEXTTURH. 

repeatedly a whoop of peculiar intonation. Girty instant^ 
ly told Kenton that it was the distress halloo, and tha 
they must all go instantly to the council house. Kenton's 
heart involuntarily fluttered at the intelligence, for ho 
dreaded a.11 whoops, and hated all council houses, firmly 
believing that neither boded him any good. Nothhig, 
however, could be done, to avoid v/hatever fate awaited 
him, and he sadly accompanied Girty and Redpole back 
to the village. 

Upon approaching the Indian who had halloed, Girty 
and Redpole shook hands with him. Kenton likewise 
offered his hand, but the Indian refused to take it, at tho 
same time scowling upon him ominously. This took 
place within a few paces of the door of the council house. 
Upon entering, they saw that the house was unusually 
full. Many chiefs and warriors from the distant towns 
were present; and their countenances were grave, severe, 
and forbidding. Girty, Redpole, and Kenton, walked 
around, offering their hands successively to each warrior. 
* The hands of the two first were cordially received; but 
when poor Kenton anxiously offered his hand to the first 
warrior, it was rejected with the same scowling eye as 
before. He passed on to the second, but was still rejected: 
he persevered, however, until his hand had been refused 
by the first six; when, sinking into despondence, he turned 
off and stood apart from the rest. 

The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked ea- 
gerly towards Girty, as his last and only hope. His friend 
looked anxious and distressed. The chiefs from a distance 
arose one after another, and spoke in a firm and indignant 
tone, often looking at Kenton with an eye of death. Girty 
did not desert him, but his eloquence appeared wasted upon 
the distant chiefs. After a warm debate, he turned to 
Kenton and said, "well! my friend! you must dieP"^ One 
oi' the stranger chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, 
and the others surrounding him, he was strongly pinioned, 
committed to a guard, and instantly marched off. 

His guard were on horseback, while the prisoner was 
driven before them on foot, with a long rope round his neck, 
the other end of which was held by one of the guard. In 



SIMOrr KENTON. 105 

ihis manner they had marched about two and a half miles, 
when Girty passed them on horseback, informing Kenton 
that he had friends at the next villaire, with whose aid he 
hoped to be able to do something for him. Girty passed 
on to the town, but finding that nothing couid be done, 
he would not see his friend again, but returned to Waugh- 
cotomoco by a different route. 

They passed ihrough the village without halting, and at 
the distance of two and a half miles beyond it, Kenton had 
again an opportunity of witnessing the fierce hate with which 
these children of nature regard an enemy. At the distance 
of a few paces from the road, a squaw was busily engaged 
in chopping wood, wbile her lord and master was sitting 
on a log, smoking his pipe and directing her labors, with 
the indolent indifference common to the natives, when not 
under the influence of some exciting passion. The sight 
of Kenton, however, seemed to rouse him to fury. He 
hastily sprung up, with a sudden yell, snatched the axe 
from the squav/, and rushing upon the prisoner so rapidly 
as to give him no opportunity of escape, dealt him a blow 
with the axe which cut through his shoulder, breaking the 
bone and almost severing the arm from his body. He 
would instantly have repeated the blow, had not Kenton's 
conductors interfered and protected him, severely repri- 
manding the Indian for attempting to rob them of the 
amusement of torturing the prisoner at 

They soon reached a large village upon the head waters 
of Scioto, where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the cele- 
brated Mingo Chief, Logan, so honorably mentioned in 
Mr. Jefferson's Notes on Virginia. Logan walked grave- 
ly up to the place where Kenton stood, and the following 
short conversation ensued : " Well, young man, these young 
men seem very mad at you ?" " Yes, sir, they certainly 
are." "Well! don't be disheartened, I am a great chief; 
you are to go to Sandusky; they speak of burning you 
there; but I will send two runners to-morrow to speak good 
for you." Logan's form was striking and manly, his 
countenance calm and noble, and he spoke the English 
language with fluency and correctness. Kenton's spirits 
instantly rose at the address of the benevolent chief^ and 



106 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

he once more looked upon himself as providentially rescued 
from the stake. 

On the following morning, two runners were despatch- 
ed to Sandusky, as the chief had promised, and until their 
return, Kenton was kindly treated, being permitted to 
spend much of his time with Logan, who conversed with 
him freely, and in the most friendly manner. In the eve- 
ning, the two runners returned, and were closeted with 
Logan. Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know 
what was the result of their mission, but Logan did not 
visit him again until the next morning. He then walked 
up to him, accompanied by Kenton's guards, and giving him 
a piece of bread, told him that he was instantly to be car- 
ried to Sandusky; and without uttering another word, 
turned upon his heel and left him. 

Again, Kenton's spirits sunk. From Logan's manner, 
he supposed that his intercession had been unavailing, and 
that Sandusky was destined to be the scene of his final 
suffering. This appears to have been the truth. But 
fortune who, to use Lord Lovat's expression, had been 
playing at cat and mouse with him for the last month, had 
selected Sandusky for the display of her strange and ca- 
pricious power. He was driven into the town, as usuai, 
and was to have been burnt on* the following morning, 
when an Indian Agent, named Drewyer, interposed, and 
once more rescued him from the stake. He was anxious 
to obtain intelligence, for the British commandant at De- 
troit; and so earnestly insisted upon Kenton's being deliv- 
ered up to him, that the Indians at length consented upon 
the express condition that after the required information 
had been obtained, he should again be placed at their dis- 
cretion. To this Drewyer consented, and without further 
difficulty, Kenton was transferred to his hands. Drewyer 
lost no time in removing him to Detroit. 

On the road, he informed Kenton of the condition upon 
which he had obtained possession of his person, assuring 
him, however, that no consideration should induce him to 
abandon a prisoner to the mercy of such wretches. Having 
dwelt at some length upon the generosity of his own dis- 
position, and having sufficiently magnified the service which 



SIMON KENTOJS. 107 

he had just rendered him, he began, at length, to cross 
question Kenton as to the force and condition of Kentucky, 
and particularly as to the number of men at Fort Mcintosh 
Kenton very candidly declared his inability to answer ei- 
ther question, observing, that he was merely a private, 
and by no means acquainted with matters of an enlarged 
and general import,- that his great business had hereto- 
fore been, to endeavor to take care of himself, which he 
nad found a work of no small difficulty. Drewyer replied, 
that he believed him, and from that time Kenton was trou- 
bled with no more questions. 

His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was 
compelled to report himself every morning, to an English 
officer, and was restricted to certain boundaries through 
the day; but in other respects, he scarcely felt that he 
was a prisoner. His battered body and broken arm, were 
quickly repaired, and his emaciated limbs were again cloth 
ed with a proper proportion of flesh. He remained in 
this state of easy restraint from October, 1777, until June 
1778, when he meditated an escape. There was no diffi- 
culty in leaving Detroit; but he would be compelled to 
traverse a wilderness of more than two hundred miles, 
abounding with hostile Indians, and affording no means of 
subsistence, beyond the wild game, which could not be killed 
without a gun. In addition to this, he would certainl/ 
be pursued, and if retaken by the Indians, he might ex- 
pect a repetition of all that he had undergone before, 
without the prospect of a second interposition on the part 
of the English. 

These considerations deterred him, for some time, from 
the attempt, but at length his impatience became uncon- 
trollable, and he determined to escape or perish in the at- 
tempt. He took his measures with equal secrecy and 
foresight. He cautiously sounded two young Kentuck- 
lans, then at Detroit, who had been taken with Boone at 
the Blue Licks, and had been purchased by the British. 
He found them as impatient as himself of captivity, and 
resolute to accompany him. Charging them not to breathe 
a syllable of their design to any other prisoners, he bu- 
sied himself for several days in making the necessary 



108 WESTERN ADTENTURfi. 

preparations. It was absolutely necessary that they 
should be provided with arms, both for the sake of repel 
ling attack, and procuring the means of subsistence; and, 
at the same time, it was very difncuit to obtain them, 
without the knowledge of the Brilifch commandant. 

By patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all 
these preliminary difficulties were overcome. Kenton 
formed a close friendship with two Indian hunters, deluged 
them with rum, and bought their guns for a mere trifle. 
After carefully hiding them in the woods, he returned to 
Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, together 
with powder and bails, from a Mr. and Mrs. Edgar, citi- 
zens of the town. They then appointed a night for the 
attempt, and agreed upon a place of rendezvous. All 
things turned out prosperously. They met at the time 
? id place appointed, without discovery, and taking a cir- 
uitous route, avoided pursuit, and travelling only during 
he night, they at length arrived safely at Louisville, after 
march of thirty days. 

Thus terminated one of the most remarkable adven- 
tures in the whole range of western history. A fatalist 
would reccgnize the hand of destiny in every stage of its 
progress. In the infatuation with which Kenton refused 
to adopt proper measures for hi"? safety, while such were 
practicable; in the persevering obstinacy with which he 
remained upon the Ohio shore, until flight became useless; 
and afterwards, in that remarkable succession of accidents,' 
by which, without the least exertion on his part, he was 
alternately tantalized with a prospect of safety, and then 
plunged again into the deepest despair. He was eight 
times exposed to the gauntlet, three times tied to the stake, 
and as often thought himself upon the eve of a terrible 
death. 

All the sentences passed upon him, whether of mercy 
or condemnation, seemed to have been only pronounced 
in one council, in order to be reversed in another. Every 
friend that Providence raised up in his favor, was imme- 
diately followed by some enemy, who unexpectedly inter- 
posed, and turned his short glimpse of sunshine into deep- 
er darkness than ever. For three weeks, he was seenwiw- 



BENJAMIN LOGAN. 109 

ing between life and death, md during the whole time, he 
was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or foresight, or exer- 
tion, could mve saved him Fortune fought his battle 
from first tD last, and seemed determined to permit noth 
ing else to interfere. Scarcely had he reached Kentucky 
when he ei abarked in a new enterprise. 

Colonel Greorge Rogers Clark had projected an expedi 
tion against the hostile posts of Vincennes and Kaskaskia^ 
and invite 1 all Kentuckians, who had leisure and inclina 
tion, to jom him. K nton instantly repaired to his stan- 
dard, and shared in the hardship and glory of one of the 
boldest, nost arduous and successful expeditions, which 
have evtr graced the American arms. The results of the 
campaig*n are well known. Secrecy and celerity were 
eminendy combined in it, and Clark shared with the com- 
mon sc/dier, in encountering every fatigue, and ]»raving 
every danger. Kenton, as usual, acted as a spy, and was 
emine/itly serviceable, but no incident otxurred, of suffi- 
cient importance to obtain a plc&c^e in tl.ese sl.etcheii. 

Fjom that time, until the close of the ladian wai in 
the vest, Kenton was actively employ (;d gimerally in a 
frontier station, and occasionady in s^irnus expeditions. 
He accompanied Edwardf/ in his abortive e cpedition against 
the Indian towns, in 1785, and shared in Wayae^s (tecisive 
campaign of 1794. But, as his life will shortly he pub- 
lic ied, in a separate volume, it is unnec(^saiv^ to pursue 
the subject farther in a sketch like the pre*^ent. He is 
now living on Mad rive/, in the Ohio stato, near the scene 
of his former adventures. His once gigantic form is now 
broken by age ; and his last days will probably be spent 
in poverty and neglect. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Among the earliest and most respectable of the emi 
grants to Kentucky, was General Benjamin Logan. His 
father was an Irishman, who had left his own country ear 

J 



110 • WESTERiM ADVEr^TyRE. 

ly in the 18th century, and settled in Pennsylvania, ftom 
which he subsequently removed to Augusta county, Vir- 
ginia. Here he shortly afterwards died. Young Logan, 
as the eldest son, was entitled by the laws of Virginia, to 
the whole of the landed property, (his father having died 
intestate.) He refused, however, to avail himself of this 
circumstance, and as the farm upon which the family resi- 
ded was too small to admit of a division, he caused it to be 
sold, and the money to be distributed among his brothers 
and sisters, reserving a portion for his mother. At the 
age of twenty-one, he removed from Augusta county, to 
the banks of the Hols ton, where shortly afterwards, he 
purchased a farm and married. 

In 1774 he accompanied Dunmore in his expedition, 
probably as a private. In 1775, he removed to Kentucky^ 
and soon became particularly distinguished. His person 
was striking and manly, his hair and complexion very 
dark, his eye keen and penetrating, his countenance gravey 
thoughtful, and expressive of a firmness, probity, and in- 
telligence, which were eminently displayed throughout his 
life. His education was very imperfect, and confined, we* 
believe, simply, to the arts of reading and writing. Having 
remained in Kentucky, in a very exposed situation, until 
the spring of 1776, he returned for his family, and brought 
them out to a small settlement, called Logan's fort, not 
far from Harrodsburgh. The Indians during this summer 
were so numerous and daring in their excursions, that Lo- 
gan was compelled to remove his wife and family for safe- 
ty, to Harrodsburgh, while he himself remained at his 
cabins, and cultivated a crop of corn. 

In the spring of 1777, his wife returned to Logan's fbrt^ 
and several settlers having joined him, he determined to 
^ maintain himself there at all risk. His courage was soon 
put to the test. On the morning of the 20th May, a fe'w 
days after his wife had rejoined him, the women were 
milking the cows at the gate of the little fort, and some 
of the garrison attending them, when a party of Indians 
appeared and fired upoa them. One man was shot dead, 
and two more wounded, one of them mortally. The whole 
party, including one of the wounded men, instantly ran 



bEJNJAMlJI LOGAJN. HI 

mto the fort and closed the gate. The enemy quickly 
showed themselves upon the edge of a canebrake, within 
elose rifle shot of the gate, and seemed numerous and deter- 
mined. Having a moment's leisure to look around, they 
beheld a spectacle, which awakened the most lively inter- 
est and compassion. 

A man named Harrison, had been severely wounded, 
and still lay near the spot where he had fallen, within full 
view both of the garrison and the enemy. The poor fel- 
low was, at intervals, endeavoring to crawl in the direc- 
tion of the fort, and had succeeded in reaching a cluster 
of bushes, which, however, were too thin to shelter his 
person from the enemy. His wife and family were in the 
fort, and in deep distress at his situation. The enemy un- 
doubtedly forbore to fire upon him, from the supposition 
that some of the garrison would attempt to save him, in 
which case, they held themselves in readiness to fire upon 
them from the canebrake. The case was a very trying 
one. It seemed impossible to save him without sacrificing 
the lives of several of the garrison, and their numbers 
already were far too few for an effectual defence, having 
originally amounted only to fifteen men, three of whom 
md already been put hors de combat. 

Yet the spectacle was so movingj and the lamentation 
tf his family so distressing, that it seemed equally impos- 
iiible not to make an effort to relieve him. Logan en- 
deavored to persuade some of his men to accompany him 
ill a sally, but so evident and appalling was the danger, 
that all at first refused ; one Herculean fellow observing 
that he was a " weakly man," and another declaring that 
he was sorry for Harrison, "but that the skin was closer 
than the shirt." At length, John Martin collected his 
courage, and declared his willingness to accompany Logan, 
saying, that " he could only die once, and that he was 
as ready now as he ever would be." The two men open- 
ed the gate and started upon their forlorn expedition, Lo- 
gan leading the way. 

They haa not advanced five steps, when Harrison per- 
ceiving them, made a vigorous effort to rise, upon which 
Martin, siipp</sing him able to help himself, immediately 



113 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

sprung back within the gate. Harrison^s strength almost 
instantly failed^ and he fell at full length upon the grass 
Logan paused a moment after the desertion of Martin, 
then suddenly sprung forward to the spot where Harrison 
lay, rushing through a tremendous shower of rifle balls, 
which was poured upon him from every spot around the fort, 
capable of covering an Indian. Seizing the wounded man 
hi his arms, he ran with him to the fortj through the same 

eavy fire, and entered it unhurt^ although the gate and 

icketing near him were riddled with ballsj and his bat 
and clothes pierced in several places. 

The fort was now vigorously assailed in the Indian 
manner, and as vigorously defended by the garrison. The 
women were all employed in moulding bulletSy while the 
men were constantly at their posts. The weakness of the 
garrison was not their only gi'ievance. A distressing scarci- 
ty of ammunition prevailed, and no supply could be pro- 
cured nearer than Holston. But how was it to be obtain- 
ed? The fort was closely blockaded,' the Indians were 
swarmmg in the woods, and chances were sadly against 
the probability of the safe passage of any courier through 
so many dangers ! Under these circumstances^ Logan de-« 
termined to take the dangerous office upon himself. After 
encouraging the men as well as he couldy with the pros- 
pect of a safe and speedy return, he took advantage of 
a dark night, and crawled through the Indian encampmenl 
without discovery. 

Shunning the ordinary route through Cumberland Gap^ 
he arrived at Holston by by-paths which no white man had 
yet trodden; through canebrakes and thickets; over tre- 
mendous cliffs and precipices, where the deer could 
scarcely obtain footing, and where no vestige of any of the 
human family could be seen. Having obtained a supply 
of powder and lead, he returned through the same almost in- 
accessible paths to the fort, which he found still besieged, 
and now reduced to extremity. The safe return of their 
leader inspired them with fresh courage, and in a few days, 

the appearance of Colonel Bowman's party, compelled the 

Indians to retire. 

During the whole of this and the next year, the Indians 



BKi^JAMIW LOOAW. 113 

were exceedingly troublesome. The Shawnees particu- 
larly distinguished themselves by the frequency and invet- 
erate nature of their incursions ; and as their capital, Chilli- 
cothe, was within striking distance, an expedition was set 
-n foot against it in 1779, in which Logan served as sec- 
ond in command. Captain James Harrod and John Bul- 
ger, accompanied the expedition; the former of whom, 
shortly afterwards, perished in a lonely ramble; and the 
latter was killed at the Blue Licks. Colonel Bowman 
commanded in chief. The detachment amounted to one 
hundred and sixty men; consisted entirely of volunteers, 
accustomed to Indian warfare, and was well officered, with 
the exception of its commander. 

They left Harrodsburg in July, and took their prelimi- 
nary measures so well, that they arrived within a mile of 
Chillicothe, without giving the slightest alarm to the ene- 
my. Here the detachment halted at an early hour in the 
night, and as usual, sent out spies to examine the condi- 
tion of the village. Before midnight they returned, and 
reported that the enemy remained unapprised of their be- 
ing in the neighborhood, and were in the most unmilitary 
security. The army was instantly put in motion. It was 
determined that Logan, with one half of the men, should 
turn to the left and march half way around the town, while 
Bowman, at the head of the remainder, should make a cor- 
responding march to the right; that both parties should 
proceed in silence, until they had met at the opposite ex- 
tremity of the village, when having thus completely en- 
circled it, the attack was to commence. 

Logan, who was bravery itself, performed his part of 
the combined operation, with perfect order, and in profound 
silence; and having reached the designated spot, awaited 
with impatience the arrivsll of his commander. Hour af- 
ter hour stole away, but Bowman did not appear. At 
length daylight appeared. Logan still expecting the am- 
val of his colonel, ordered the men to conceal themselves 
in the high grass, and await the expected signal to attack. 
No orders, however, arrived. In the mean time, the men, 
in shifting about through the grass, alarmed an Indian dog, 
the only sentinel ovt duty. He instantly began to bay 



114 WESTERN ADVEIITURE. 

loudly, and advanced in the direction of the man who 
had attracted his attention. Presently a solitary Indian 
left his cabin, and walked cautiously towards the party, 
halting frequently, rising upon tiptoes, and gazing around 
him. 

Logan's party lay close, with the hope of taking him, 
without giving the alarm; but at that instant a gun was 
fired in an opposite quarter of the town, as was afterwards 
ascertained hy one of Bowman's party, and the Indian, 
giving one shrill whoop, ran swiftly back to the council 
house. Concealment was now impossible. Logan's party 
instantly sprung up from the grass, and rushed upon the vil- 
lage, not doubting for a moment that they would be gal- 
lantly supported. As they advanced, they perceived In- 
dians of all ages and of both sexes running to the great cab- 
in, near the center of the town, where they collected in 
full force and appeared determined upon an obstinate de- 
fence. Logan instantly took possession of the houses 
which had been deserted, and rapidly advancing from cabin 
to cabin, at length established his detachment within close 
rifle shot of the Indian redoubt. 

He now listened impatiently for the firing which should 
have been heard from the opposite extremity of the town, 
where he supposed Bowman's party to be, but to his aston- 
ishment, every thing remained quiet in that quarter. In 
the mean time his own position had become critical. The 
Indians had recovered from their panic, and kept up a 
close and heavy fire upon the cabins which covered his 
men. He had pushed his detachment so close to the re- 
doubt, that they could neither advance nor retreat without 
great exposure. The enemy outnumbered him, and gavo 
indications of a disposition to turn both flanks of his posi- 
tion,, and thus endanger his retreat. 

Under these circumstances, ignorant of the condition 
of his commander, and cut off* from communication with 
him, he formed the bold and judicious resolution, to make 
a moveable breast work of the planks which formed the 
floor of the cabins, and under cover of it, to rush uponi 
the strong hold of the enemy and carry it by main force. 
Had this gallant determination been carried into eflfect^ 



BENJAMm LOGAN. 116 

and had the movement been promptly seconded, as it ought 
to have been by Bowman, the conflict would have been 
bloody, and the victory decisive. Most probably not an 
Indian would have escaped, and the consternation which 
Buch signal vengeance would have spread throughout the 
Indian tribes, might have repressed their incursions for a 
considerable time. But before the necessary steps could 
be taken, a messenger arrived from Bowman, with orders 
« to retreat!" 

Astonished at such an order, at a time when honor and 
safety required an offensive movement on their part, Lo- 
gan hastily asked if Bowman had been overpowered by the 
enemy? No! Had he ever beheld an enemy? No! What 
then, was the cause of this extraordinary abandonment of 
a design so prosperously begun ? He did not know : the Co- 
lonel had ordered a retreat! Logan, however reluctantly 
was compelled to obey. A retreat is always a dispiriting 
movement, and with militia, is almost certain to terminate 
in a complete rout. As soon as the men were informed 
if the order, a most irregular and tumultuous scene com- 
menced. Not being buoyed up by the mutual confidence 
Tfhich is the offspring of discipline, and which sustains 
regular soldiers under all circumstances, they no longer 
acted in concert. 

Each man selected the time, manner, and route of his 
retreat for himself Here a solitary Kentuckian would 
start up from behind a stump, and scud away through the 
grass, dodging and turning to avoid the balls which whis- 
tled around him. There a dozen men would run from a 
cabin, and scatter in every direction, each anxious to save 
himself, and none having leisure to attend to their neighbors. 
The Indians, astonished at seeing men rout themselves in 
this manner, sallied out of their redoubts and pursued the 
stragglers, as sportsmen would cut up a scattered flock of 
wild geese. They soon united themselves to Bowman's 
party, who from some unaccountable panic of their com- 
mander or fault in themselves, had stood stock still near 
the spot where Logan had left them the night before. 

All was confusion. Some cursed their colonel; some 
reproached other officers: one shouted one thing; one bel- 



116 fYESTERI^ ADVENTURE. 

lowed another; but all seemed to agree that they ought to 
make the best of their way home, without the loss of a 
moment's time. By great exertions on the part of Logan, 
well seconded by Harrod, Bulger, and the present Major 
Bedinger, of the Blue Licks, some degree of order was 
restored, and a tolerably respectable retreat commenced. 
The Indians, however, soon surrounded them on all sides, 
and kept up a hot fire, which began to grow fatal. Colon- 
el Bowman appeared totally demented^ and sat upon his 
horse like a pillar of stone, neither giving an order, nor 
taking any measures to repel the enemy. The sound of 
the rifle shots, had however completely restored the men 
to their senses, and they readily formed in a large hollow 
square, took trees and returned the fire with equal viva- 
city. The enemy was quickly repelled, and the troops re- 
commenced their march. 

But, scarcely had they advanced half a mile, when the 
Indians re-appeared, and again opened a fire upon the 
front, rear and both flanks. Again, a square was formed 
and the enemy repelled: but scarcely had the harassed 
troops recommenced their march, when the same galling 
fire was opened upon them from every tree, bush, and 
stone capable of concealing an Indian. Matters now 
began to look serious. The enemy were evidently endeav- 
oring to detain them, until fresh Indians could come up in 
sufficient force to compel them to lay down their arms. 
The men began to be unsteady, and the panic was rap- 
idly spreading from the colonel to the privates. At this 
crisis, Logan, Harrod, Bedinger, &/C., selected the boldest, 
and best mounted men, and dashing into the bushes on 
horseback, scoured the woods in every direction, forcing 
the Indians from their coverts, and cutting down as many 
as they could overtake. 

This decisive step completely dispersed the enemy, and 
the weary and dispirited troops continued their retreat un- 
molested. They lost nine killed and a few others wounded. 
But the loss of reputation on the part of the colonel, was 
incalculable, for, as usual, he was the scapegoat upon 
whose head the disgrace of the miscarriage was laid. No 
0ood resu^i! has ever \mm, itaaifiied for the extraordinary 



BEjNJAMIN LOGAN. H^ 

failure of his own detachment: and the subsequent panic 
which he displayed when harassed in the wood, affords 
room for suspicion, that either the darkness of the night, 
or the cry of an ov/I, (for he did not see the face of an en- 
emy,) had robbed the colonel of his usual courage. 

It may be here remarked, that the propriety of combin- 
ed operations with irregular troops, is at least doubtful. 
Different corps, moving by different routes upon the same 
point, are liable to miscarriage from so many causes, that 
the measure is scarcely ever attended with success, unless 
when the troops are good, the officers intelligent and un- 
animous, and the ground perfectly understood. The in^ 
tervention of a creek, the ignorance of a guide, or the 
panic of an officer, as in the case of Bow^man, may destroy 
the unity of the operation, and expose the detachment 
which has reached its station in proper time to be cut off. 

The signal failure of Washington at Germantown, 
may, in a great measure, be attributed to the complicated 
plan of attack, as the several divisions arrived at different 
times, attacked without concert, and were beaten in de- 
tail. I can scarcely recollect a single instance, save the 
affair of Trenton, in which raw troops have succeeded by 
combined operations, and many miscarriages in our own 
annals, may be attributed to that circumstance. Logan 
returned to Kentucky with a reputation increased, rather 
than diminished, by the failure of the expedition. His 
conduct was placed in glaring contrast to that of his un- 
fortunate commander, and the praise of the one was in 
exact correspondence to the censure of the other. 

No other affair of consequence, occurred, until the 
rash and disastrous battle of the Blue Licks, in which as 
we have seen, Logan w^as unable to share. He seems to 
have remained quietly engaged in agricultural pursuits, 
until the summer of 1788, when he conducted an expedi- 
tion against the north-w^estern tribes, which, as usual, 
terminated in burning their villages, and cutting up their 
cornfields, serving to irritate, but not to subdue the enemy. 
A single incident attending this expedition, deserves to be 
commemorated. Upon approaching a large village of the 
Shawnees, from which as usual, most of the inhabitants 



118 WJSSTEBN aBV^j^NTURE. 

had fled, an old chief named Moluntha, came out to meet 
them fantastically dressed in an old cocked hat, set jaun* 
tj ccpv-tti. one side of his head, and a fine shawl thrown 
over his shoulders. He carried an enormous pipe in one 
hand, and a tobacco pouch in the other, and strutted out 
with the air of an old French beau to smoke the pipe of 
peace with his enemies, whom he found himself unable to 
meet in the field. 

Nothing could be more striking, than the fearless conj5- 
dence with which he walked through the foremost ranks 
of the Kentuckians, evidently highly pleased with his own 
appearance, and enjoying the admiration which he doubted 
not, that his cocked hat and splendid shawl inspired. Many 
of the Kentuckians were highly amused at the mixture of 
dandyism and gallantry which the poor old man exhibited, 
and shook hands with him very cordially. Unfortunately, 
however, he at length approached Major McGary, whose 
temper^ never particularly sweet, was as much inflamed by 
the sight of an Indian, as that of a wild bull by the wav* 
ing of a red flag. It happened, unfortunately too, that 
Moluntha had been one of the chiefs who commanded af 
the Blue Licks, a disaster which McGary had not yet for- 
gotten. 

Instead of giving his hand as the others had done, 
McGary scowled upon the old man, and asked him if " he 
recollected the Blue Licks !" Moluntha smiled and mere- 
ly repeated the word " Blue Licks !" when McGary in 
stantly drew his tomahawk and cleft him to the brain. The 
old man received the blow without flinching for a second, 
and fell dead at the feet of his destroyer. Great excite- 
ment instantly prevailed in the army. Some called it a 
ruthless murder; and others swore that he had done right; 
that an Indian was not to be regarded as a human being, 
but ought to be shot down as a wolf whenever and wher* 
ever he appeared, McGary himself raved like a mad* 
man at the reproach of his countrymen, and declared, with 
many bitter oaths, that he would not only kill every In- 
dian whom he met, whether in peace or war, at church or 
lyiarket, but that he would equally as readily tomahawk the 
ipao who blamed him for the act« 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 119 

Nothing else, worthy of being mentioned, occurred du- 
ring the expedition, and Logan, upon his return, devoted 
himself exclusively to the civil affairs of the country, which 
about this time began to assume an important aspect. 

The reader who is desirous of understanding the gra- 
dations by which, from a simple society of wood&menj 
Kentucky became transformed into a boiling vortex of po- 
litical fury, intrigue and dissension, will do well to consult 
Mr. Marshall's history, which, although possessing some 
peculiarities of opinion, and occasional eccentricities of 
style, will be found to contain a strong, clearj and saga- 
cious view of the political events which succeeded th^ 
peace of 1783. 



CHAPTER V. 

During the whole of the Revolutionary war, the Indiana 
had been extremely troublesome to the back counties of 
Pennsylvania and Virginia, particularly to those of Wash- 
ington, Youghiogany, and Westmoreland. In the early 
part of the year 1782, however, these irregular excursions 
became so galling, that an expedition was concerted a- 
gainst the Wyandott village, lying upon the waters of the 
Sandusky. Great exertions were made to procure volun- 
teers. Every man who should equip himself with a horse 
and rifle, was to be exempted from two tours of militi^ 
duty; and any loss, either of arms or horses, was to be 
repaired out of the plunder of the Indian towns. The 
volunteers were to rendezvous on the 20th of May, at an 
old Mingo village, on the western shore of the Ohio, about 
forty miles above fort Pitt, and the unfortunate Colonel 
William Crawford was unanimously selected as the lead- 
er of the expedition. 

On the appointed day, four hundred and fifty mounted 
volunteers assembled at the Mingo village, and impatient^ 
ly awaited the arrival of their colonel. Crawford instant- 
{y accepted the appointment, which had been so unan'^* 



180 fTfiiTERIf ADVENTUKi:, 

mously pressed upon him^ and a few days before the day 
of rendezvous, passed through Pittsburgh, on his way to 
the appointed place. He there prevailed upon Dr. Knight 
to accompany the detachment as surgeon, and having pro- 
vided such medical stores as were likely to be useful on 
the expedition, he lost no time in putting himself at the 
head of the troops. 

On Saturday, the 25th of May, the little army com- 
menced its march, striking at once into a pathless wilder- 
ness, and directing their course due west. On the fourth 
day, they halted at the ruins of the old Moravian town, 
about sixty miles from the Ohio, where a few of the vol- 
unteers gave a sample of the discipline which was to be 
expected from the party, by abandoning the detachment 
and returning home. The main body, however, still 
seemed eager to prosecute the expedition, and the march 
was continued with unabated spirit. On the morning of 
the 30th, Major Brunton and Captain Bean, being a few 
hundred yards in advance of the troops, observed two In- 
dians, skulking through the woods, apparently observing 
the motions of the detachment. They instantly fired up- 
on them, but without success. Secrecy now being out of 
the question, it only remained to press forward with all 
practicable despatch, and afford the enemy as little time 
for preparation as possible. As the wilderness began to 
deepen around them, and the critical moment approached 
in which their courage would be tried, it became evident 
that the ardor of the men was considerably cooled. 

On the eleventh day of their march, they reached the 
spot where the town of Sandusky had formerly stood, but 
from which the Indians had lately removed to a spot about 
eighteen miles below. Here the detachment halted, and 
here the insubordinate spirit of the army first displayed 
itself. They insisted upon returning home, alleging the 
tired condition of their horses, and the fact, that their pro- 
visions were likely soon to be exhausted. The officers, 
yielding to the wishes of their constituents^ (for the troops 
had elected their own officers,) determined, in council, that 
they would continue their march for one day longer, aad 
if no Indians appeared, they would then return homt 



iriLLtAM CRAWFOK®. 131 

What other result than these which we are now about to 
record, could have been anticipated from such officers and 
such men? 

Just as the council broke up, a single light-horseman 
belonging to the advanced guard rode in at a gallop, an- 
nouncing that a large body of Indians were formed in an 
open wood, a few miles in advance, and seemed determined 
to arrest the farther progress of the invaders. Instant 
preparations were made for battle. The troops, notwith* 
standing their previous murmurs, advanced with alacrity^ 
and soon came up with the light horsemen, who were 
slowly retiring within view of the enemy. The country 
was generally open, and well adapted to the operations 
of cavalry. Here and there a thin copse of woodland 
appeared, generally free from undergrowth, and giving to 
each party a full view of their enemy's movements. The 
Indians had partially obtained possession of one of the^ 
copses, although their full force had not yet come up. 

The importance of seizing the wood was instantly seen, 
and Crawford hastily ordered his men to dismount, tie their 
horses, and force the enemy from their position before 
their reinforcements could arrive. This judicious order 
was promptly and effectually obeyed. Both flanks of the 
Indian position was immediately turned, and a rapid and 
threatening movement upon their front quickly compelled 
them to give way. Crawford now took possession of the 
wood, but scarcely had he done so, when the main body 
of the enemy hurried up to the assistance of their van, 
and outflanking Crawford in turn, opened a heavy and 
galling fire upon his men, from which they found it very 
difficult to obtain proper shelter. 

The action now became sharp and serious ; Crawford 
maintaining his ground, and the enemy, (who were hourly 
increasing in number,) making the most strenuous efforts 
to regain the wood. From four in the evening until dusk, 
the firing was very heavy, and the loss considerable. Du- 
ring the whole of this time, scarcely an Indian was visi- 
ble, unless for a moment, when shifting his position. 
Their number could only be ascertained, from the many 
wreaths of smoke, which arose from every bush, tree, or 



12^ WlSTER]>i ADVENTURE. 

tuft of grass within viewi At night the enemy drew ofi^ 
and Crawford's party slept upon their arms upon the field 
of battle. 

On the next day the attack was renewed, but at a more 
respectful distance. The Indians had apparently sustain- 
ed some loss on the close firing of the preceding evening, 
and seemed now determined to await the arrival of addi- 
tional reinforcements. Occasional shots were fired through 
the day, on both sides, but without much injury to 
either. As soon as it was dark, the field officers assem- 
bled in council; and, as the numbers of the enemy were 
evidently increasing every moment, it was unanimously 
determined to retreat by night, as rapidly as was consis- 
tent with order, and the preservation of the wounded. 
The resolution was quickly announced to the troops, and 
the necessary dispositions made for carrying it into effect. 
The outposts were silently v/ithdrawn from the vicinity 
of the enemy, and as fast as they came in, the troops 
were formed in three parallel lines, with the wounded borne 
upon biers, in the center. By nine o'clock at night, 
all necessary arrangements had been made, and the 
retreat began in good order 

Unfortunately, they had scarcely moved a hundred pa 
€es, when the report of several rifles were heard in the 
rear, in the direction of the Indian encampment. The 
troops soon became very unsteady. At length, a sol 
itary voice, in the front rank, called out, that their de- 
sign was discovered, and that the Indians would soon bG 
upon them. Nothing more was necessary. The cavalry 
were instantly broken; and, as usual, each man endeav 
ored to save himself as he best could. A prodigious 
uproar ensued, which quickly communicated to the enemy, 
that the white men had routed themselves, and that they 
had nothing to do but pick up stragglers. The miser- 
able wounded, notwithstanding the piercing cries with 
which they supplicated to be taken with them, were aban 
doned to the mercy of the enemy, and soon put out of 
pain. 

Dr. Knight, the surgeon of the detachment, was in the 
rear when the flight commencedj but seeing the necessity 



WILLIAM €RAWFORD. jgf 

of despatch, he put spurs to his horse and galloped through 
the wood as fast as the darkness of the night would 
permit. He had not advanced more than three hundred 
yards, when he heard the voice of Colonel Crawford, a 
short distance in front, calling aloud for his son John 
Crawford, his son-in-law Major Harrison, and his two 
nephews, Major Rose and William Crawford. Dr..^ Knight 
replied in the same loud tone, that he believed the young 
men were in front. "Is that you, Doctor ?^^ asked Craw- 
ford, eagerly; for no features could be recognised in the 
darkness. "Yes, Colonel! I am the hindmost man I be- 
lieve !" " No, No !" replied Crawford, anxiously, " my son 
is in the rear yet : I have not been able to hear of him in 
front! Do not leave me, Doctor, my horse has almost giv 
en out; I cannot keep up with the troops, and wish a few 
of my best friends to stay with me!" 

Knight assured him, that he might rely upon his sup 
port in any extremity} and drew up his horse by his side. 
Colonel Crawford still remained upon the same spot, cal- 
ling loudly for his son, until the last straggler had passed. 
He then in strong language reprobated tjae conduct of the 
militia, in breaking their ranks, and abandoning the woun* 
ded, but quickly returned to the subject of his son, and ap- 
peared deeply agitated at the uncertainty of his fate. 
Perceiving, however, that further delay must terminate in 
death or captivity, the party set spurs to their horses and 
followed the route of the troops. Presently an old man 
and a lad joined them. Crawford eagerly asked if they 
had seen his son or nephews? They assured him that they 
had not, upon which he sighed deeply, but made no reply. 

At this instant, a heavy fire was heard at the distance 
of a mile in front, accompanied by yells, screams, and all 
the usual attendants of battle. Not a doubt was enter- 
tained that the Indians had intercepted the retreat of the 
main body, and were now engaged with them. Having 
lost all confidence in his men, Crawford did not choose to 
unite his fortune to theirs, and changed his course, to the 
northward, in such a manner as to leave the combatants 
upon the right. He continued in this direction for nearly 
an hour, until he supposed himself out of the immediate 



134 WESTERN ADVEJNfTURE. 

line of the enemy's operations, when he again changed 
his course to the eastward, moving as rapidly as possible, 
with an interval of twenty paces between them, and stea- 
dily regulating their route by the north star. The boy 
who accompanied them was brisk and active, but the old 
man constantly lagged behind, and as constantly shouted 
aloud for them to wait for him. They often remonstrated 
with him on the impropriety of making so much noise, at 
a time when all their lives depended upon secrecy and 
celerity, and he repeatedly promised to do so no more. 

At length, upon crossing Sandusky creek, the old man 
found himself once more considerably in the rear, and 
once more shouted aloud for them to wait, until he could 
come up. Before they could reply a halloo was heard, in 
the rear of their left, and apparently not more than one 
hundred paces from the spot where the old man stood. 
Supposing it to be the cry of an Indian, they remained 
still and silent for several minutes, looking keenly around 
them in the expectation of beholding an enemy. Every 
thing, however, continued silent. The old man was heard 
no more, and whether he escaped, or was killed, could nev- 
er be ascertained. The party continued their flight until 
daybreak, when Colonel Crawford's horse and that of the 
boy, sunk under their riders, and were abandoned. 

Continuing their journey on foot, they quickly fell in 
with Captain Biggs, an expert woodsman and gallant offi- 
cer, who, in the universal scattering, had generously brought 
off a wounded officer. Lieutenant Ashley, upon his own 
horse, and was now composedly walking by his side, with 
a rifle in his hand and a knapsack upon his shoulders. This 
casual meeting was gratifying to both parties, and they 
icon tinned their journey with renewed spirits. At three 
o'clock in the afternoon a heavy rain fell, and compelled 
them to encamp. A temporary shelter was quickly formed 
by barking several trees, after the manner of the Indians, 
and spreading the bark over poles so as to form a roof. A 
fire was then kindled, and the rain continued to pour down 
in torrents. They remained here through the night, 
without any accident. 

Continuing their route on the following morning, at the 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. IM 

.lietanee af three miles from the camp^ they found a deer, 
which had recently been killed and skinned. The meat was 
neatly sliced and bundled up in the skin — and a toma- 
hawk lay near — giving room for suspicion that Indians 
were in the neighborhood. As the whole party had fast- 
ed for thirty six hours, this was a very acceptable treat, 
and lifting the skin, with the meat enclosed from the 
ground, they carried it with them until they had leisure to 
cook it. Having advanced a mile further, they observed 
a smoke in the woods, before them. The party instantly 
halted, while Colonel Crawford and Dr. Knight advanced 
to reconnoiter. 

Cautiously approaching the fire, they found it burning 
brightly, but abandoned, from which they inferred 
that a party had encamped there the preceding night, 
and had retired a few minutes before their approach. 
Having carefully examined the bushes around, and dis- 
covered no Indian sign, they directed their friends in the 
rear to come up, and quickly set about preparing break- 
fast*, In a few minutes they observed a white man, skulk- 
ing in the rear, examining the trail and apparently very 
shy of approaching them. Calling out to him in a friend- 
ly tone, they invited him to approach without fear, assiiring 
him that they were countrymen and friends. The man 
instantly complied, and informed them that he had killed 
the deer which they were cooking, but hearing them ap- 
proach, be had taken them for enemies, and had fled into 
the bushes for concealment. 

Highly pleased at this further accession to their strength, 
the party breakfasted heartily upon the deer, and continued 
their march. By noon, they had reached the path by 
which the army had marched a few days before, in their 
advance upon the Indian towns, and some discussion took 
place as to the propriety of taking that road homeward. 
Biggs and the doctor strenuously insisted upon continuing 
their course through the woods, and avoiding all paths, but 
Crawford overruled them, assuring them that the Indians 
would not urge the pursuit beyoind the plains, which were 
already far behind. Unfortunately, the colonel prevailed ; 
<and abandoning their dv.e f^^stern course, the party pursued 



3 26 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the beaten path. Crawford and Knight moved one hun^ 
dred and fifty yards in front. Biggs and his wounded friend 
Ashley were in the center, both on horseback, the doctor 
having lent Biggs his horse, and the two men on foot 
brought up the rear. 

They soon had reason to repent their temerity. Scarce- 
ly had they advanced a mile, when several Indians sprung 
up within twenty yards of Knight and Crawford, present- 
ed their guns and in good English ordered them to stop. 
Knight instantly sprung behind a large black oak, cocked 
his gun and began to take aim at the foremost. Crawford, 
however, did not atten ^t to conceal himself — but calling 
hastily to Knight, ordered"' him twice not to fire. Instantly 
the Indian, at whom Knig2^t had taken aim, ran up to the 
colonel with every demonstration of friendship, shook his 
hand cordially, and asked him how he did. Knight still 
maintaining a hostile attitude behind the tree, Crawford 
called to him again, and ordered him to put down his gun^ 
which the doctor very reluctantly obeyed. 

Biggs and Ashley, seeing the condition of their friends, 
Halted, while the two men in the rear very prudently took 
to their heels and escaped. One of the Indians then told 
Crawford to order Biggs to come up and surrender or they 
would kill him. The colonel complied, but Biggs, feeling 
no inclination to obey his commander in the present in- 
stance, very coolly cocked his rifle, took deliberate aim at 
one of the Indians, and fired, although without effect. He 
and Ashley then put spurs to their horses and for the time 
escaped. The two prisoners were then taken to the In- 
dian camp, which stood within a few miles of the place 
where they were taken; and on the next evening, five 
Delawares came in with the scalps and horses of Biggs 
and Ashley, who it appeared, had returned to the road, and 
were intercepted a few miles further on. 

On the morning, which was the tenth of June, Cmw- 
ford and Knight, together with nine more prisoners, were 
conducted by their captors, seventeen in number, to the 
old town of Sandusky, about thirty-three miles distant. The 
main body halted at night, within eight miles of the vil- 
lage, but as Colonel Crawford expressed great anxiety to 



WiLLUM CRAWFORD, 127 

gpeak with Simon Girty, who was then at Sandusky, he 
was permitted to go on that evening, under the care of 
two Indians. On Tuesday morning, the 11th of June, 
Colonel Crawford was brought back from Sandusky on 
purpose to march into town with the other prisoners. 
Knight eagerly accosted him, and asked if he had seen 
Girty? 

The colonel replied in the affirmative; and added, that 
Girty had promised to use his utmost influence for his 
(the colonel's) safety, but was fearful of the consequences, 
as the Indians generally, and particularly Captain Pipe, 
one of the Delaware chiefs, were much incensed against 
the prisoners, and were endeavoring to have them all 
burnedc The colonel added, that he had heard of his son- 
in-law. Colonel Harrison, and his nephew, William Craw- 
ford, both of whom had been taken by the Shawnees, and 
admitted to mercy. Shortly after this communication, 
their capital enemy. Captain Pipe appeared. His appear- 
ance was by no means unprepossessing, and he exhibited 
none of the ferocity, which Knight, from Girty's account, 
bad been led to expect. 

On the contrary, his manners were bland and his lan- 
guage flattering. But one ominous circumstance attend- 
ed his visit. With his own hands, he 'painted every pris- 
&ner black! While in the act of painting the doctor, he 
was as polite as a French valet, assuring him that he 
should soon go to the Shawnee town and see his friendsj 
and while painting the colonel, he told him that his head 
should be shaved, i. e., he should be adopted, as soon as 
he arrived at the Wyandott town. As soon as the pris- 
oners were pamted, they were conducted towards the 
town. Captain Pipe walking by the side of Crawford, and 
treating him with the utmost kindness, while the other 
prisoners, with the exception of Dr. Knight, were pushed 
on ahead of him. 

As they advanced, they were shocked at. observing the 
bodies of four of their friends, who had just left them, 
lying near the path, tomahawked and scalped, with an in- 
terval of nearly a mile between each. They had evi- 
dently perished in running the gauntlet. This spectacle 



iBiiii^ 



1^ WfiSTERI^ ADV&KTURE. 

was regarded as a sad presage of their own fate. In a 
short time they overtook the five prisoners who remained 
alive. They were seated on the ground, and appeared 
much dejected. Nearly seventy squaws and Indian boys 
surrounded them, menacing them with knives and toma- 
hawks, and exhausting upon them every abusive epithet 
which their language afforded. Crawford and Knight were 
compelled to sit down apart from the rest, and immediately af» 
terwards, the doctor w^as given to a Shawnee w^arrior, to be 
conducted to their town, while the colonel remained sta- 
tionary. 

The boys and squaws then fell upon the other prisoners, 
and tomahawked them in a moment. Among them was 
Captain McKinley, who had served with reputation through- 
out the revolutionary war until the capture of Cornwallis. 
An old withered hag approached him, brandishing a long 
knife, and seizing him by the hair, instantly cut off his head 
and kicked it near the spot where Crawford sat in nao- 
mentary expectation of a similar fate. Another destiny, 
however, was reserved for him. After having sufficiently 
exhausted their rage upon the lifeless bodies of the five 
prisoners, the whole party started up, and driving Craw- 
ford before them, marched towards the village. 

Presently, Girty appeared on horseback, coming front 
Sandusky. He stopped for a few moments, and spoke t« 
Crawford, then passing to the rear of the party, addressed 
Knight: "Is this the doctor?" inquired he, with an in- 
sulting smile. "Yes! Mr. Girty, I am glad to see you!" 
replied poor Knight, advancing towards him, and anx- 
iously extending his hand. But Girty cursed him in a 
savage tone, ordered him to be gone, and not to suppose 

that he would give his hand to such a rascal. Upon 

this, the Shawnee warrior who had him in custody, drag 
ged him along by a rope. Girty followed on horseback, 
and informed him that he was to go to Chillicothe. Pres- 
ently they came to a spot where there was a large fire, 
around which about thirty warriors, and more than double 
that number of boys and squaws were collected. 

As soon as the colonel arrived, they surrounded him, 
stripped him naked, and compelled him to sit on the ground 



WILLIAM CRAWFOR©, lf9 

aear the fire. They then fell upon hira, and beat him 
severely with sticks and their fists. In a few minutes a 
large stake was fixed in the ground, and piles of hickory 
poles, rather thicker than a man^s thumb, and about twelve 
feet in length, were spread around it. Colonel Craw- 
ford's hands were then tied behind his back; a strong 
rope was produced, one end of Vvhich was fastened to the 
ligature between his wrists, and the other tied to the bot- 
tom of the stake. The rope was long enough to permit 
him to walk around the stake several times and then return. 
Fire was then applied to the hickory poles, which lay in 
piles at the distance of six or seven yards from the stake. 

The colonel, observing these terrible preparations, 
called to Girty, who sat on horseback, at the distance of a 
few yards from the fire, and asked if the Indians were 
going to burn him. Girty very coolly replied in the 
afiirmative. The colonel heard the intelligence with firm- 
ness, merely observing, that he would bear it with forti- 
tude. When the hickory poles had been burnt asunder in 
the middle. Captain Pipe arose and addressed the crowd, 
in a tone of great energy, and with animated gestures, 
pointing frequently to the colonel, who regarded him with 
an appearance of unruffled composure. As soon as he 
had ended, a loud whoop burst from the assembled throng, 
and they all rushed at once upon the unfortunate Craw- 
ford. For several seconds, the crowd was so great around 
him, that Knight could not see what they were doing; but 
in a short time, they had dispersed sufficiently to give 
him a view of the colonel. 

His ears had been cut off*, and the blood was streaming 
down each side of his face. A terrible scene of torture 
now commenced. The warriors shot charges of powder 
into his naked body, commencing with the calves of his 
legs, and continuing to his neck. The boys snatched the 
burning hickory poles and applied them to his flesh. As 
fast as he ran around the stake, to avoid one party of tor • 
mentors, he was promptly met at every turn by others, 
with burning poles, red hot irons, and rifles loaded with 
powder only ; so that in a few minutes nearly one hundred 
charges of powder had been shot into his body, which had 



I 



ItO WESTERN ADVENTORi!. 

b^ome black and blistered in a dreadful manner. The 
squaws would take up a quantity of coals and hot ashes, 
and throw them upon his body, so that in a few minutes he 
had nothing but fire to walk upon. 

In the extremity of his agony, the unhappy colonel 
called aloud upon Girty, in tones which rang through 
Knight's brain with maddening effect: "Girty! Girty!! 
shoot me through the heart!! Quick! quick!! Do not 
refuse me!!" "Don't you see I have no gun, colonel!" 
replied the monster, bursting into a loud laugh, and theii 
turning to an Indian beside him, he uttered some brutal 
jests upon the naked and miserable appearance of the 
prisoner. While this awful scene was being acted, Girty 
rode up to the spot where Dr. Knight stood, and told him 
that he now had a foretaste of what was in reserve for 
him at the Shawnee towns. He swore that he need not 
expect to escape death, but should suffer it in all the 
extremity of torture! 

Knight, v/hose mind was deeply agitated at the sight 
of the fearful scene before him, took no notice of Girty, 
but preserved an impenetrable silence. Girty, after 
coldly contemplating the colonel's sufferings for a few 
moments, turned again to Knight, and indulged in a bitte, 
invective against a certain Colonel Gibson, from whom 
he said, he had received deep injury; and dwelt upon the 
delight with which he would see him undergo such tor- 
tures as those which Crawford was then suffering. He 
observed, in a taunting tone, that most of the prisoners 
had said, that the white people would not injure him, if 
the chance of war was to throw him into their power; but 
that for his own part, he should be loath to try the experi- 
ment. "I think, (added he with a laugh,) that they would 
roast me alive, with more pleasure than those red fellows 
are now broiling the colonel ! What is your opinion, doc- 
tor? Do you think they would be glad to see me?" Still 
Knight made no answer, and in a few minutes Girty 
rejoined the Indians. 

The terrible scene had now lasted more than two hours, 
and Crawford had become much exhausted. He walked 
slowly around the stake, spoke in a low tone, and ear- 



WlMrAM CRAWFORD. f^l 

nestly besought God to look with compassion upon him, 
and pardon his sins. His nerves had lost much of their 
sensibility, and he no longer shrunk from the firebrands 
with which they incessantly touched him. At length he 
sunk in a fainting fit upon his face, and lay motionless. 
Instantly an Indian sprung upon his back, knelt lightly 
upon one knee, made a circular incision with his knife 
upon tne crown of his head, and clapping the knife be- 
tween his teeth, tore the scalp off with both hands. 
Scarcely had this been done, when a withered hag ap- 
proached with a board full of burning embers, and poured 
them upon the crown of his head, now laid bare to the 
bone. The colonel groaned deeply, arose, and again 
walked slowly around the stake! But why continue a 
description so horrible? Nature at length could endure 
no more, and at a late hour in the night, he was released 
by death from the hands of his tormentors. 

At sun set. Dr. Knight was removed from the ground, 
and taken to the house of Captain Pipe, where, after 
having been securely bound, he was permitted to sleep 
unmolested, On the next morning, the Indian fellow to 
whose care he had been committed, unbound him, again 
painted him black, and told him he must instantly march 
off for the Shawnee village. The doctor was a small, 
weak man, and had sunk much under the hardship to 
which he had been exposed; and this, probably, was the 
cause of his having been committed unbound to the guar 
dianship of a single Indian. They quickly left Sandusky, 
and in a few minutes passed by the spot where Crawford 
had been tortured. His flesh had been entirely con- 
sumed, and his bones, half burnt and blackened by the 
fire, lay scattered around the stake. The Indian fellow 
who guarded him, uttered the scalp halloo, as he passed 
the spot, and insultingly told Knight, that "these were 
the bones of his Big Captain!" Knight was on foot, the 
Indian mounted on a pony and well armed, yet the doctor 
determined to effect his escape, or compel his enemy to 
shoot him dead upon the spot. 

The awful torture which Crawford had undergone, had 
Ibft a deep impression upon his mind. The savage inti- 



laation of Girty was not forgotten ; and he regarded 
death, by shooting, as a luxury compared with the pro 
tracted agony of the stake. Anxious, however, to lull 
the suspicious temper of the Indian, who appeared to be 
extremely vigilant, he spoke to him in a cheerful, confi-» 
dent tone, and pretended to be entirely ignorant of the 
fate which awaited him at the Shawnee town. He found 
the fellow very sociable, and apparently as simple as he 
could wish. Upon his asking if they were not to live 
together in the same cabin, like brothers, as soon as they 
arrived at the end of their journey, the Indian seemed 
pleased, and replied, "yes." He then asked the doctoiy 
if he could make a wigwam ? The doctor boldly asserted^ 
that he was a capital workman in wood, and could build a 
wigwam, to which their most spacious council houses were 
mere hovels. This assertion evidently elevated him in 
the Indian's esteem, and they continued to chat in a very 
friendly manner, each probably thinking that he had made 
a dupe of the other. 

After travelling about twenty-five miles, they encamped 
for the night, when Knight permitted himself to be bound. 
The Indian then informed him, that they would reach the 
Shawnee village about the middle of the next day, and seem- 
ed to compose himself to rest. Knight frequently attempt- 
ed to untie himself, but was as often frustrated by the 
incessant vigilance of the Indian, whose dark eyes were 
rolling around him throughout the whole night. At day- 
light, the Indian arose and unbound his prisoner, who in- 
stantly determined to attempt an escape without further 
delay. His conductor did not immediately leave the spot, 
but began to rekindle their fire which had burned low, and 
employed himself diligently in giving battle to the myriads 
of gnats, that swarmed around him, and fastened upon 
his naked body with high relish. Knight seeing him rub 
his back with great energy, muttering petulantly in the 
Indian tongue, asked if he should make a smoke behind 
him, in order to drive the gnats away. 

The Indian told him to do so, and Knight arising from his 
seat, took the end of a dogwood fork about eighteen inches 
in length* and putting ^ cml of fire between it and anoth 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 13g 

er stick, went behind the Indian as if to kindle a fire. 
Gently laying down the c^al, he paused a moment to col- 
lect his strength, and then struck the Indian a furious blow 
upon the back of the head, with the dogwood stick. The 
fellow stumbled forward, and fell with his hands in the 
fire, but instantly rising again, ran oflf with great rapid- 
ity, howling most dismally. Knight instantly seizod the 
vifle which his enemy had abandoned and pursued him 
ntending to shoot him dead on the spot, and thus pre 
/eni pursuit; but in drawing back the cock of the gun 
».oo violently, he injured it so much that it would not go 
)ff; and the Indian frightened out of his wits, and leaping 
md dodging with the activity of a wild cat, at length 
affected his escape. 

On the same day about noon^ as Knight afterwards 
learned from a prisoner who effected his escape, the Indi- 
an arrived at the Shawnee village, with his head dreadful- 
ly cut and his legs torn by the briers. He proved to be 
a happy mixture of the braggadocio and coward, and trea- 
ted his fellows with a magnificent description of his con 
test with Knight, whom he represented as a giant in stature, 
(five feet seven inches!) and a buffalo in strength and 
fierceness. He said that Knight prevailed upon him to 
untie him, and that while they were conversing like bro- 
thers, and while he himself was suspecting no harm, his 
prisoner suddenly seized a dogwood sapling, and belabored 
him, now on this side of his head, now on the other, (here 
his gestures were very lively,) until he was scarcely able 
to stand! That, nevertheless, he made a manful resistance, 
and stabbed his gigantic antagonist twice, once in the 
back, and once in the beliy, but seeing that his knifa 
made no impression upon the strength of the prisoner, he 
was at length compelled to leave him, satisfied that the 
wounds which he had inflicted must at length prove mor- 
tal. The Indians were much diverted at his account of 
the afiair, and laughed loud and long, evidently not believ* 
ing a syllable of the tale — at least so far as his own 
prowess was concerned. 

In the mean time, Knight finding it useless to pursue 
the Indian, to whom terror had lent wings, hastily return- 



1S4 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

ed to the iirej and taking the Indian's blanket, moccasinSj 
bullet bag and powder horn, lost no time in moving off^ 
directing his course towards the north-east. About half 
an hour by sun he came to the plains already mentioned^ 
which were about sixteen miles wide. Not choosing to 
cross them by daylight, he lay down in the high grass 
until dark, then guided by the north star, he crossed them 
rapidly, and before daylight had reached the woods on the 
other side. Without halting for a moment, he continued 
his march until late in the afternoon, crossing nearly at 
right angles the path by which the troops had advanced, and 
moving steadily to the northward, with the hope of avoid- 
ing the enemy who might still be lingering upon the rear 
of the troops. 

In the evening he felt very faint and hungry, having 
tasted nothing for three days, and very little since his 
captivity. Wild gooseberries grew very abundantly in 
the v/oods, but being still greeiij they required mastication, 
which he was unable to perform, his jaws having been 
much injured by a blow from the back of a tomahawk. 
There was a weed, hov/ever, which grew in the woods 
the juice of which w^as grateful to the palate, and noui*^ 
ishing to the body. Of this he sucked plentifully, and 
finding himself much refreshed, was enabled to continue 
his journey. Supposing that he had now advanced suffi- 
ciently to the northward to baffle his pursuers, he changed 
his course and steered due east. 

Wishing, if possible, to procure some animal food, he 
often attempted to rectify the lock of his gun, supposing 
that it was only wood-bound, but having no knife, he was 
unable to unscrew it, and was at length reluctantly com* 
polled to throw it away as a useless burden. His jaw 
rapidly recovered, and he w^as enabled to chew green 
gooseberries, upon which, together with two young un- 
fledged black birds, and one land terrapin, (both devoured 
raw,) he managed to subsist for twenty-one days. He 
swam the Muskingum a few miles below fort LawrencQ^ 
and crossing all paths, directed his steps to the Obi® 
river. He struck it at a few miles below fort Mcintosh 



JOHN SLOVER. 135 

on the evening of the twenty-first day, and on the morning 
of the twenty-second reached the fort in safety. 

Such was the lamentable expedition of Colonel Craw- 
ford, rashly undertaken, injudiciously prosecuted, and ter- 
minating with almost unprecedented calamity. The 
insubordinate spirit of the men, together with the inade- 
quacy of the force, were the great causes of the failure. 
The first w^as incident to the nature of the force; but the 
second might have been remedied by a little consideration. 
Repeated disasters, however, were necessary to convince 
the Americans of the necessity of employing a sufficient 
force; and it was not until they had suffered by the expe- 
rience of ten more years, that this was at length done. 
The defeat of Braddock had been bloody, but not disgrace- 
ful. Officers and soldiers died in battle, and with arms in 
their hands. Not a man offered to leave the ground until 
a retreat was ordered. Crawford, on the contrary, pei'- 
jished miserably at the stake, as did most of his men. 
They were taken in detail, skulking through the wood% 
to avoid an enemy, whom they might have vanquished by 
union, steadiness, and courage. It stands upon record as 
one of the most calamitous and disgraceful expeditiops 
which has ever stained the American arms. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DuKiNG the old French war, John Slover, a native of 
Virginia, was taken by a party of Miami Indians, on the 
banks of White river, and immediately conducted to the 
[ndian town of Sandusky. Here he resided from his 
eighth to his twentieth year. At the treaty of Pittsburgh, 
in the fall of 1773, he came in with the Shawnee nation, 
and accidentally meeting with some of his relations, h^ 
was recognised and earnestly exhorted to relinquish his 
connection with the Indians, and return to his friends. H© 
yielded with some reluctance, having become strongly 
attached to a savage life; and having probably bMt littl© 



136 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

relish for labor on a farm, after the easy life which he had 
led in Ohio, h-e enlisted in the continental army, and serv- 
ed two campaigns with credit, as a sharp shooter. Hav- 
ing been properly discharged, he settled in Westmoreland 
county, and when the unfortunate expedition of Crawford 
was set on foot, was strongly urged to attend in the capa- 
city of a guide. 

Conquering the distaste which he naturally felt, at the 
idea of conducting a hostile army against his former friends, 
he yielded to the persuasion of his neighbors, and shared 
in all the dangers of the army. At the moment when the 
rout took place, Slover was in the immediate neighborhood 
of the enemy, attending to a number of horses that were 
grazing on the plain. But the uproar in front, occasioned 
by the tumultuous flight of more than four hundred men, 
soon warned him of his danger. He hastily mounted the 
best horse within reach, and put him to his utmost speed 
He soon overtook the main body, and was among the fore- 
most when the Indians attempted to intercept them. A 
deep bog crossed the line of retreat, and occasioned im- 
mense confusion. 

Those who first reached it, plunged in without hesita 
tion, but after struggling for a few minutes, their horses 
stuck fast, and were necessarily abandoned. The dark- 
ness of the night, and the hurry of the retreat, prevented 
the rear from profiting by the misfortune of the van. Horse- 
man after horseman plunged madly into the swamp, and 
in a few minutes, a scene which baffles all attempt at de- 
scription took place. Not one tenth part of the horses 
were able to struggle through. Their riders dismounted 
and endeavored, on foot, to reach the opposite side. The 
Indians pressed upon them, pouring an incessant fire upon 
the mass of fugitives, some of whom were completely 
mired, and sunk gradually to the chm, in which condition 
they remained until the following morning; others, with 
great difficulty, effected a passage, and continued theii 
flight on foot. 

Siover, having struggled for several minutes to disen- 
gage his horse, was at length compelled to abandon him, 
and wado through the morass as he best could, on foot. 



JOHjN slover. 137 

After incredible fatigue and danger, he at length reached 
the firm ground, covered with mud, and frightened not 'a 
little at hearing the yells of the enemy immediately be- 
hind him, and upon each flank, many of them having cros- 
sed a few hundred yards above, v/here the mud was not 
so deep. In a few minutes he overtook a party of six 
men on foot, having been compelled like himself to aban- 
don their horses, and two of them having even lost their 
guns. Finding themselves hard pressed by the enemy, 
who urged the pursuit with great keenness., they changed 
their course from an eastern to a western direction, almost 
turning upon their own trail, and bending their steps 
towards Detroit. In a short time they struck the same 
swamp, although considerably higher up, and were com- 
pelled to wait until daylight in order to find their way 
across. Having succeeded at length, in reaching the op- 
posite side, they travelled throughout the day, directly 
towards the Shav, nee towns. This, as the event proved, 
was finessing rather too much. They would certainly avoid 
their pursuers, but they were plunging into the midst of 
the Indian settlements, and must expect to meet with 
roving bands of Indians in every directionv 

At ten o'clock, they halted for breakfast, having eaten 
nothing for two days. While busily engaged with their 
ration of cold pork and corn bread, they were alarmed by 
hearing a halloo immediately behmd them, which was 
instantly ansv/ered by two others upon each flank. Has- 
tily dropping their wallets, they fled into the grass, and 
falling upon their faces, awaited with beating hearts the 
approach of the enemy. Presently, seven or eight Indi- 
ans appeared, talking and laughing in high spirits, evident- 
ly ignorant of the presence of the fugitives. In a few 
minutes they had passed, and the party cautiously returned 
to their wallets. The fright, however, had completely 
spoiled their appetites, and hastily gathering up the rem- 
nant of their provisions, they continued their journey^ 
changing their course a little to the north, in order to 
avoid the party who had just passed. 

By twelve o'clock, they reached a large prairie, which it 
was necessary for them to cross, or return upon ih&it 



138 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

own footsteps. In the prairie they would be much expo- 
sed, as an enemy could see them at a vast distance, but to 
return to the spot from which they had started was so 
melancholy an alternative, that after a short and anxious 
consultation, it was determined at all risk to proceed 
They accordingly entered the vast plain, which stretched 
for many miles before them, affording no means of conceal- 
ment but the grass, and advanced rapidly but cautiously, 
until about one o'clock, when the man in front, called their 
attention to a number of moving objects ahead, which 
seemed to approach them. The grass was high, and the 
objects indistinct. 

They might be Indians, or elk, or buffalo ; but whoever 
or whatever they were, it v/ould be as well perhaps not to 
await their coming. They accordingly crawled aside, and 
again lay down in the grass, occasionally lifting their 
heads in order to reconnoitre the strangers. As they 
drew near, they perceived them to be a party of Indians, 
but from the loose and straggling manner in which they 
walked, and the loudness of their voices, they were satis- 
fied that they had not been detected. The Indians quickly 
passed them and disappeared in the grass. The party 
then arose and continued their journey, looking keenly 
around them, in hourly expectation of another party of 
the enemy. 

In the evening a heavy rain fell, the coldest that they 
had ever felt, and from which it was impossible to find a 
shelter. Drenched to the skin and shivering with cold, 
they waded on through the grass until near sunset, when 
to their great joy they saw a deep forest immediately in 
fi'ont, where they could obtain shelter as well from the 
storm as the enemy. The rain, however, which had pour- 
ed in torrents while they were ex])osed to it, ceased at once 
as soon as they had reached a shelter. Considering this 
a good omen, they encamped for the night, and on the fol- 
lowing morning, recommenced their journey with renewed 
spirits. They were much delayed, however, by the infir- 
mity of two of their men, one of whom had burnt his foot 
severely, and the other's knees were swollen with the 
rhejumatism. 



JOHTs SLOVER. 130 

The rheumatic traveller, at length, fell considerabiy 
behind. The party halted, hallooed for him, and whistled 
pudiy upon their chargers, but in vain. They saw him 
no more on their march, although he ufterwards reached 
Wheeling in safet}^, while his stronger companions, as we 
shall quickly see, were not so fortunate. They had now 
again shifted their course, and were marching in a straight 
direction towards Pittsburgh. They had passed over the 
most dangerous part of the road, and had, thus far, got the 
first view of every enemy who appeared. 

On the morning of the third day, however, a party of 
Indians, who had secretly dogged them from the prairie, 
^through which their trail had been broad and obvious,) 
had now outstripped them, and lay in ambush on their 
road. The first intimation which Siover had of their 
existence, w^as a close discharge of rifles, which killed 
two of their party. The four survivors instantly ran to 
the trees, but two of their guns had been left in the 
sw^amp, so that two only remained fit for service. Siover, 
w^hose gun was in good order, took aim at the foremost 
Indian, who, raising his hand warningly, told him not to 
fire, and he should be treated kindly. Siover and his two 
unarmed companions instantly surrendered, but John Paul, 
a youth, refused to be included in the capitulation, and 
being equally bold and active, completely bafiied his pui*-- 
suers and came safely into Wheeling, 

One of the Indians^ instantly recognised Siover, having 
been present at his capturo many years before, and hav- 
ing afterwards lived with him at Sandusk3^ He called 
him by his Indian nam^e, (Mannuchcothe,) and reproached 
him indignantly for bearing arms against his brothers 
Siover was somewhat confused at the charge, fearing that 
his recognition would be fatal to him when he should 
reach the Indian towns. They were taken back to the 
prairie, where the Indians had left their horses,- ajid each 
mounting a horse, they moved rapidly towards the nearest 
town, which proved to be Waughcotomoco, the theater 
of Kenton's adventure, four years before. Upon ap- 
proaching the tov/n, the Indians, who had heretofore 
bsejii very kind to them, suddenly began to look sour. 



J40 WESTERN" ABVEKTURE, 

and put tliemselves into a passion by dwelling upon their 
injuries. Presently, as usual, the squaws, boys, &c. came 
out, and the usual scene commenced. They soon became 
tired of abusing and switching them, and having selected 
the oldest of the three, they blacked his face with coal 
and water. The poor fellow was much agitated, and 
cried bitterly, frequently asking Slover if they were not 
going to burn him. The Indians, in their own language, 
hastily forbid Slover to answer him, and coming up to 
their intended victim, patted him upon the back, and with 
many honeyed epithets, assured him that they would not 
hurt him. They then marched on to the large town, 
about two miles beyond the small one, (both bearing the 
same name,) having as usual, sent a runner in advance 
to inform the inhabitants of their approach. 

The whole village presently flocked out, and a row was 
formed for the gauntlet. The man who had been blacked 
attracted so much attention^ that Slover and his companion 
scarcely received a blow. The former preceded them by 
twenty yards, and was furiously attacked by every indi- 
vidual. Loads of powder were shot into his body, deep 
wounds were inflicted w^th knives and tomahawks, and 
sand was thrown into his eyes, and he was several times 
knocked down by cudgels. Having heard that he would 
be safe on reaching the council house, he forced his way 
with gigantic strength, through all opposition, and grasped 
tlie post with both hands, his body burnt with powder and 
covered with blood. 

He was furiously torn from his place of refuge, how- 
ever, and thrust back among his enemies, when finding that 
they would give him no quarter, he returned their blows 
with a fury equal to their own, crying piteously the whole 
time, and frequently endeavoring to wrest a tomahawk 
from his enemies. This singular scene was continued 
for nearly half an hour, when the prisoner was at length 
beaten to death. Slover and his companion reached the 
post in safety, and were silent spectators of the fate of 
their fi-iend. As soon as he was dead, the Indians cut up 
his body, and stuck the head and quarters upon poles ia 
the center of the town. 



JOHN SLOVER. 14i 

On the same evening, he beheld the dead bodies of 
young Ci*awford and Colonel Harrison, and a third whom 
he supposed to be Colonel McCleland, the second in com- 
mand. Their bodies were black and mangled, like that 
of their unfortunate companion, having been beaten to 
death a few hours before their arrival. As he passed by 
the bodies, the Indians smiled maliciously, and asked if he 
knew them? He mentioned their names, upon which 
they nodded with much satisfaction. In the evening all 
the dead bodies were di'agged beyond the limits of the 
town, and abandoned to the dogs and wolves. In twen- 
ty-four hours, their bones only were to be seen. 

On the following morning, Slover's only surviving 
companion was marched off to a neighboring tow^n, and 
never heard of afterwards. Slover, himself, was sum= 
moned in the evening to attend at the council house, and 
give an account of his conduct. Heretofore he had gen- 
erally been treated with kindness, and on the first day of 
the council, he saw no symptoms of a disposition to put 
him to death. But on the second day, James Girty arri- 
ved from Crawford's execution, and instantly threw the 
whole weight of his influence into the scale against the 
prisoner. He dwelt with much emphasis upon the ingrat- 
itude of Slover, in serving as a spy against those who 
had formerly treated him with such distinguished kind- 
ness, and scrupled not to affirm, that in a confidential 
conversation which he had had with the prisoner, on that 
morning, he had asked him " how he would like to live 
again with his old friends?" — Upon which Slover had 
laughed, and replied, that " he would stay until he had an 
opportunity of taking a scalp, and would then steal a 
horse and return to the whites." 

Slover knew many of his judges by name, spoke their 
language fluently, and made a vigorous defence. He 
said, that during the whole twelve years of his former 
captivity among them, he had given ample proofs of his 
fidelity to the Indians. That, although he had a thousand 
opportunities, he had never once attempted an escape, 
and there were several now present who could testify 
that, at the ti-eaty of Foi't Pitt, he had left them with re- 



142 WESTERiN ADVEJNTUKE. 

luctance in compliance with the earnest solicitations of his 
family. That he had then taken leave of them publicly, 
in broad daylight, in time of profound peace, and with 
their full approbation. That he then had no idea of the 
existence of a future w^ar; but when war came, it was 
his duty to accompany his countrymen to the field against 
the Indians, precisely as he v/ould have accompanied the 
Indians formerly against the whites. That it was the 
undoubted duty of every warrior to serve his country, 
without regard to his own private feelings of attachment; 
that he had done so; and if the Indians thought it worthy 
of death, they could inflict the penalty upon him! — he 
was alone, and in their power. That Mr. Girty's asser- 
tion was positively false : he had not exchanged a syllable 
with him, beyond a brief and cold salutation, when they 
had met in the morning, not to mention the absurdity of 
supposing that if he had really entertained such an idea, 
he would have communicated it to Girty! — the sworn 
enemy of the whites, and as he believed, his own per^ 
sonal enemy. 

This vigorous and natural defence, seemed to make 
some impression upon his enemies. Girty's assertion 
Vv^as so strikingly improbable, that very few gave it credit, 
and some of Slover's old friends exerted themselves ac- 
tively in his behalf. The council suspended their decis- 
ion for several days, and in the mean time, endeavored to 
gain information from him, as to the present condition of 
Virginia. Slover informed them that Cornwallis had 
been captured, together with his whole army, which as- 
tonished them much, and compelled them to utter some 
deep guttural interjections. But Girty ahd McKey be- 
came very angry, svv^ore that it was a lie, and renewed 
their exertions with increased ardor, to have him brought 
to the stake. While his trial was pending, he was un- 
bound, and unguarded, was invited to all their dances, 
and suffered to reside as an inmate in the cabin of an old 
squaw, who treated him with great affection. 

Girty was blustering, ferocious, and vulgar in his man- 
ners, but McKey was silent, grave, and stern, never 
addressing Slover, and seldom speaking in council. He 



JOHI^ SLOVER. 143 

lived apart from the rest in a handsome house, built of 
white-oak logs, elegantly hewed, and neatly covered with 
shingles. His hatred to the v/hites was deep and invet- 
erate, and his influence was constantly exerted against 
every prisoner who came before him. They spared no 
pains in endeavoring to entrap Slover into some unguarded 
words, which might injure him with the Indians. A 
white man one morning asked Slover to v/aik out with 
him, as he had something of importance to communicate. 

As soon as they had gained the fields, the fellow halted, 
and in a confidentieJ tone, informed Slover that he had 
two brothers living upon the banks of the Potomac, whom 
he was desirous of seeing again; that the Indians had 
given him his life, for the present, but they were such 
capricious devils, that there v/as no confidence to be 
placed in them, and he felt disposed to escape, while it 
v/as in his power, if Slover would accompany him. Slo- 
ver heard him coldly, and with an appearance of great 
surprise, blamed him for entertaining so rash a project, 
and assured him that he was determined to encounter no 
such risk. The emissary of Girty and McKey returned 
instantly to the council, and reported that Slover had ea- 
gerly entered into the project, and was desirous of es- 
caping that evening. 

Two days afterwards, a very large council was held^ 
being composed of warriors from the Shawnee, Delaware, 
Wyandot t, Chippewa, and Mingo tribes. Two Indians 
came to the wigwam, in order to conduct Slover onee 
more before his judges, but the old squav/ concealed him 
beneath a large bear skin, and fell upon the two messen- 
gers so fiercely with her tongue, that they were com- 
pelled to retreat with some precipitation. This zeal in 
his service, on the part of the old squaw, was rather 
alarming than gratifying to Slover, for he rightly conjec- 
tured that something evil was brewing, which he knew 
that she would be unable to avert. He was not long in 
suspense. Within two hours, Girty came into the hut, 
followed by more than forty warriors, and seizing Slover, 
stripped him naked, bound his Imnds behind him, painted 
kis body black, and bore him off with great violence. 



144 WESTERN ADVEI^TURE. 

Girty exulted greatly in the success of his efforts, and 
loaded iiim with curses and reproaches, assuring him that 
he would now get what he had long deserved. 

The prisoner was borne off to a town at the distance 
of five miles from Waughcotomoco, where he was met, as 
usual, by all the inhabitants, and beaten in the ordinary 
manner for one hour. They then carried him to another 
little village about two miles distant, where a stake and 
hickory poles had been prepared, in order to burn him 
that evening. The scene of his intended execution was 
the council house, part of which was covered with shin- 
gles, and the remainder entirely open at top, and very 
slightly boarded at the sides. In the open space, a pole 
had been sunk in the ground, and the faggots collected. 
Slover was dragged to the stake, his hands bound behind 
him, and then fastened to the pole as in Crawford's case. 

Fire was quickly applied to the faggots, which began 
to blaze briskly. An orator then, as usual, addressed 
the assembly, in order to inflame their passions to the 
proper height. Slover seeing his fate inevitable, rallied 
his courage, and prepared to endure it with firmness. For 
the last half hour the wind had been high, but the clouds 
were light, and appeared drifting rapidly away. While 
the orator was speaking, however, the wind suddenly 
lulled, and a heavy shower of rain fell v/hich instantly 
extinguished the fire, and drenched the prisoner and his 
enemies to the skin. Poor Slover, who had been making 
preparations to battle with fire, was astonished at finding 
himself deluged all at once v/ith so different an element, 
and the enemy seemed no less so. They instantly ran 
under the covered part of the house, and left the prisoner 
to take the rain freely, assuring him from time to time, 
that he should be burned on the following morning. 

As soon as the rain ceased, they again surrounded him, 
dancing around the stake, kicking him severely, and 
striking him with sticks, until eleven o'clock at night. A 
tall young chief named "Half Moon," then stooped down 
and asked the prisoner if " he was not sleepy?" Slover, 
somewhat astonished at such a question, and at such a 
time, replied in the affirmative. Half Moon then untied 



JOHJV SLOVER. 145 

him, conducted him int© a strong block house, pinioned his 
arms until the buffalo tug was buried in the flesh, and 
then passinsf another thong- around his neck, and tying 
the other end to one of the beams of the house, left him 
under a strong guard, exhorting him to sleep soundly, foi 
that he must " eat fire in the morning." 

The prisoner, on the contrary, never closed his eyes 
awaiting anxiously until his guard should fall asleep 
They showed, however, no inclination to indulge him. 
Two of them lay down a little after midnight, but the 
third sat up talking and smoking until nearly daylight. 
He endeavored to entertain Slover, by speculations upon 
his (Slover's) a^bility to bear pain, handling the painful 
subject with the zest of an amateur, and recounting to 
the prisoner, the particulars of many exhibitions of the 
same kind which he had witnessed. He dwelt upon the 
entertainment which he had no doubt Slover would afford, 
exhorting him to bear it like a man, and not forget that 
he had once been an Indian himself. Upon this torturing 
subject, he talked, and smoked, and talked again, until 
the prisoner's nerves tingled, as if the hot irons were ac- 
tually hissing against his flesh. 

At length the tedious old man's head sunk gradually 
upon his breast, and Slover heard him snoring loudly. 
He paused a few moments, listening intently. His heart 
beat so strongly, that he was fearful lest the Indians 
should hear it, and arrest him in his last effort to escape. 
They did not stir, however, and with trembling hands ho 
endeavored to slip the cords from his arms over his wrists. 
In this he succeeded without much difficulty, but the 
thong around his neck was more obstinate. He attempted 
to gnaw it in two, but it was as thick as his thumb and as 
hard as iron, being made of a seasoned buffalo's hide. 
Daylight was faintly breaking in the east, and he expect- 
ed every moment, that his tormentors would summon 
him to the stake. In the agony and earnestness of his 
feelings, the sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead, 
and the quickness of his breathing awakened the old man. 

Slover lay still, fearful of being detected, and kept his 
anns under his back. The old Indian vawned, stretched 



i46 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

himself, stirred the fire, and then lay down again, aiwi 
began to snore as loudly as ever. Now was the time or 
never! He seized the rope with both hands and giving it 
several quick jerks, could scarcely believe his senses, 
when he saw the knot come untied, and felt himself at 
liberty. He arose lightly, stepped silently over the 
bodies of the sleeping Indians, and in a moment stood in 
the open air. Day was just breaking — and the inhabit- 
ants of the village had not yet arisen. He looked around 
for a moment to see whether he w^as observed, and then 
ran hastily into a cornfield, in order to conceal himself. 
On the road he had nearly stumbled upon a squaw and 
several children, who were asleep under a tree. 

Hastily avoiding them, he ran through the cornfield, 
and observing a number of horses on the other side, he 
paused a moment, untied the cord, which still confined 
his right arm, and hastily fitting it into a halter, approach- 
ed a fine strong colt, about four years old, that fortunately 
proved as gentle as he could wish. Fancying that he 
heard a door open behind him, he sprung upon his back 
as lightly as a squirrel, although every limb was bruised 
and swollen, by the severe beating of the preceding night, 
and as the w^oods were open and the ground level, he pu4; 
his horse to his utmost speed and was soon out of sight. 
Confident that pursuit would not be delayed more than 
fifteen minutes, he never slackened his speed until about 
ten o'clock in the day, when he reached the Scioto, at a 
point fully fifty miles distant from the village which he 
had left at daylight. 

He here paused a moment, and allowed the noble ani- 
mal, who had borne him so gallantly, to breathe for a few 
minutes. Fearing, however, that the enemy had pursued 
him with the same mad violence, he quickly mounted his 
horse again, and plunged into the Scioto, w^hich was now 
swollen by the recent rains. His horse stemmed the cur- 
rent handsomely, but began to fail in ascending the 
opposite bank. He still, however, urged him to full speed, 
and by three o'clock had left the Scioto more than twenty 
miles behind, when his horse sunk under him, having 
galloped upwards of seventy miles. Slover instantly 



JOHJNf SLOVER. 147 

sprung from his back, and ran on foot until sunset. Halt- 
ing for a moment, he heard a halloo, far behind him, and 
seeing the keenness of the pursuit, he continued to run 
until ten o'clock at night, when he sunk upon the ground, 
and vomited violently. In two hours the moon arose, which 
he knew would enable the enemy to follow his trail through 
^he night ; and again starting up, he ran forward until day. 

During the night he had followed a path, but in the 
rnorning he abandoned it, and changing his course, follow 
^d a high ridge, covered with rank grass and weeds, which 
fte carefully put back with a stick as he passed through 
pt in order to leave as indistinct a trail as possible. On 
that evening he reached some of the tributaries of the 
Muskingum, where his naked and blistered skin attracted 
millions of musquetoes, that followed him day and night, 
efiectually prevented his sleeping, and carefully removed 
such particles of skin as the nettles had left, so that if his 
own account is to be credited, upon reaching the Muskin- 
gum, which he did on the third day, he had been complete- 
ly peeled from head to foot. Here he found a few wild 
raspberries, vv'hich was the first food he had tasted for foiur 
days. He had never felt hunger, but suffered much from 
faintness and exhaustion. He swam the Muskingum at 
Old Comer's town, and looking back, thought that he put a 
great deal of ground between himself and the stake, at 
which he had been found near Waughcotomoco ,• and that 
it would be very strange if, having been brought thus far, 
he should again fall into the power of the enemy. 

On the next day he reached Stillwater, where he caught 
two crawfish, and devoured them raw. Two days after- 
wards, he struck the Ohio river immediately opposite 
Wheeling, and perceiving a m.an standing upon the Island, 
he called to him, told him his name, and asked him to 
bring over a canoe for him. The fellow at first was very 
shy, but Slover having told the names of many officers 
and privates, who had accompanied the expedition, he was 
at length persuaded to venture across, and the fugitive 
was safely transported to the Virginia shore, after an es- 
cape which has few parallels in real life, and which seemji 
«Ten to exceed the bounds of probable fiction. 



148 WESTKRi?^ ADVEl^TURE. 



CHAPTER VII. 



In the present chapter, we shall notice several circum- 
stances, in the order in which they occurred, none of which 
singly, are of sufficient importance to occupy a chapter to 
themselves. In the autumn of 1779, a number of koel 
boats were ascending the Ohio under the command of 
Major Rodgers, and had advanced as far as the mouth of 
Licking without accident. Here, however, they observed 
a few Indians, standing upon the southern extremity of a 
sandbar, v/hile a canoe, rowed by three others, was in the 
act of putting off from the Kentucky shore, as if for the 
purpose of taking them aboard. Rodgers instantly order- 
ed the boats to be made fast on the Kentucky shore, while 
the crew, to the number of seventy men, well armed, cau • 
tiously advanced in such a manner as to encircle the spo 
where the enemy had been seen to land. Only five oi 
six Indians had been seen, and no one dreamed of encoun- 
tering more than fifteen or twenty enemies. 

When Rodgers, however, had, as he supposed, complete- 
ly surrounded the enemy, and was preparing to rush upon 
them, from several quarters at once, he was thunderstruck 
at beholding several hundred savages suddenly spring up 
in front, rear, and upon both flanks! They instantly 
poured in a close discharge of rifles, and then throwing 
down their gims, fell upon the survivors with the toma- 
hawk! The panic was complete, and the slaughter pro- 
digious. Major Rodgers, together with forty-five of his 
men, were almost instantly destroyed. The survivers 
made an effort to regain their boats, but the five men who 
had been left in charge of them, had immediately put oflf 
from shore in the hindmost boat, and the enemy had al- 
ready gained possession of the others. Disappointed in 
the attempt, they turned furiously upon the enemy, and 
aided by the approach of darkness, forced their way through 
their lines, and with the loss of several severely wounded, 
at length effected their escape to Harrodsburgh. 

Among the wounded was Captain Robert Benham 



ROBERT BEiN^HAM. 149 

Shortly after breaking through the enemy^s line, he was 
shot through both hips, and the bones being shattered, he 
instantly fell to the ground. Fortunately, a large tree 
had lately fallen near the spot where he lay, and with 
great pain, he dragged himself into the top, and lay con- 
cealed among the branches. The Indians, eager in pur- 
suit of the others, passed him without notice, and by mid- 
night all was quiet. On the following day, the Indians 
returned to the battle ground, in order to strip the dead 
and take care of the boats. Benham, although in danger 
of famishing, permitted them to pass without making 
known his condition, very correctly supposing that his 
crippled legs would only induce them to tomahawk him 
upon the spot, in order to avoid the trouble of carrying 
him to their town. 

He lay close therefore, until the evening of the second 
day, when perceiving a raccoon descending a tree, near 
him, he shot it, hoping to devise some means of reaching 
it, when he could kindle a fire and make a meal. Scarcely 
had his gun cracked, however, when he heard a human 
cry, apparently not more than fifty yards off. Supposing 
it to be an Indian, he hastily reloaded his gun, and re- 
mained silent, expecting the approach of an enemy. 
Presently the same voice was heard again, but much 
nearer. Still Benham made no reply, but cocked his gun 
and sat ready to fire as soon as an object appeared. A 
third halloo was quickly heard, followed by an exclama- 
tion of impatience and distress, which convinced Benham 
that the unknown must be a Kentuckian. As soon, there- 
fore, as he heard the expression " whoever you are, for 
God's sake answer me !" he replied with readiness, and 
the parties were soon together. 

Benham, as we have already observed, was shot through 
both legs! The man who now appeared, had escaped 
from the same battle, with hoik arms broken! Thus each 
was enabled to supply what the other wanted. Benham 
having the perfect use of his arms, could load his gun and 
kill game, with great readiness, while his friend having 
the use of his legs, could kick the game to the sgot where 
Benham sat, who was thus enabled to cook it. When n^ 



180 WESTER!^ ADVKNTUHE. 

wood was near theiHj his companion would rake up brush 
with his feet, and gradually roll it within reach of Ben- 
ham's hands, who constantly fed his companion, and dress- 
ed his wounds as well as his own — tearing up both of 
their shirts for that purpose. They found some difficulty 
m procuring water, at first ; but Benham at length took 
his own hat, and placing the rim between the teeth of his 
companion, directed him to wade into the Licking, up to 
his neck, and dip the hat into the water, by sinking his 
own head. The man who could walk, was thus enabled 
to bring water, by n^eans of his teeth, which Benham 
eould afterwards dispose of as was necessary. 

In a few days, they had killed all the squirrels and birds 
within reach, and the man with the broken arms, was 
sent out to drive game within gunshot of the spot, to which 
Benham was confined. Fortunately, wild turkeys were 
ai andant in those woods, and his companion would walk 
around, and drive diem towards Benham, who seldom fail- 
ed to kill two or three of each flock. In this manner, 
tfcey supported themselves for several weeks, until their 
wounds had healed, so as to enable them to travel. They 
&en shifted their quarters, and put up a small shed at the 
mouth of the Licking, where they encamped until late in 
November, anxiously expecting the arrival of some boat, 
which should convey them to the falls of Ohio. 

On the 27th of November, they observed a flat boat 
moving leisurely down the river. Benham instantly 
hoisted his hat upon a etick and hallooed loudly for help. 
The crew, however, sap posing them to be Indians; at least 
suspecting them of an intention to decoy them ashore, 
paid no attention to their signals of distress, but instantly 
put over to the opposite side of the river, and manning 
every oar, endeavored to pass them as rapidly as possible. 
Benham beheld them pass him with a sensation bordering 
on despair, for the place was much frequented by Indians, 
ind the approach of winter threatened them with destruc- 
tion, unless speedily relieved. At length, after the boat 
had passed him nearly half a mile, he saw a canoe put oflT 
firom its stern, and cautiously approach the Kentucky 
flhore, evidently reconnoitering them with great suspicion, 
/ 



ALEXANDER MoCONNEL. 151 

He called loudly upon them for assistance, mentioned 
his name and made known his condition. After a long 
parley, and many evidences of reluctance on the part of 
the crew, the canoe at length touched the shore, and Ben- 
ham and his friend were taken on board. Their appear- 
ance excited much suspicion. They were almost entirely 
naked, and their faces were garnished with six- weeks 
growth of beard. The one was barely able to hobble 
upon crutches, and the other could manage to feed himself 
with one of his hands. They were instantly taken to 
Louisville, where their clothes (which had been carried 
off in the boat which deserted them) were restored to 
them, and after a few weeks confinement, both were per- 
fectly restored. 

Benham afterwards served in the northwest throughout 
the whole of the Indian war, accompanied the expeditions 
of Harmer and Wilkinson, shared in the disaster of St. 
Clair, and afterward in the triumph of Wayne. Upon the 
return of peace, he bought the land upon which Rodgers 
had been defeated, and ended his days in tranquillity, 
amid the scenes which had witnessed his sufferings. 

Early in the spring of 1780, Mr. Alexander McConnei,, 
of Lexington, Ky. went into the woods on foot, to hunt 
deer. He soon killed a large buck, and returned home 
for a horse, in order to bring it in. During his absence, 
a party of five Indians, on one of their usual skulking ex- 
peditions, accidentally stumbled on the body of the deer, 
and perceiving that it had been recently killed, they na 
turally supposed that the hunter would speedily return to 
secure the flesh. Three of them, therefore, took their 
stations within close rifle shot of the deer, while the other 
two followed the ti-ail of the hunter, anc^ waylaid the path 
by which he was expected to return. McConnel, expect- 
ing no danger, rode carelessly along the path, which the 
two scouts were watching, until he had come within view 
of the deer, when he was fired upon by the whole party, 
and his horse killed. While laboring to extricate himself 
fi'om the dying animal, he was seized by his enemies, in- 
stantly overpowered, and borne off as a prisoner. 

His captors, however, seemed to be a merry, good i»- 



152 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

tured set of fellows, and permitted him to accompany them 
unbound ; and, what was rather extraordinary, allowed him 
to retain his gun and hunting accoutrements. He accom- 
panied them with great apparent cheerfulness through the 
day, and displayed his dexterity in shooting deer for the 
use of the company, until they began to regard him with 
great partiality. Having travelled with them in this man- 
ner for several days, they at length reached the banks of 
the Ohio river. Heretofore, the Indians had taken the 
precaution to bind him at night, although not very secure- 
ly; but on that evening, he remonstrated with them on the 
subject, and complained so strongly of the pain which the 
cords gave him, that they merely wrapped the buffalo tug 
loosely around his wrists, and having tied it in an easy 
knot, and attached the extremities of the rope to their own 
bodies, in order to prevent his moving without awakening 
them, they very composedly went to sleep, leaving tfle 
prisoner to follow their example or not, as he pleased. 

McConnel determined to effect his escape that night, if 
possible, as on the following night they would cross the 
river, which would render it much more difficult. He, 
therefore, lay quietly until near midnight, anxiously ru- 
minating upon the best means of effecting his object. Ac- 
cidentally casting his eyes in the direction of his feet, they 
fell upon the glittering blade of a knife, which had escaped 
its sheath, and was now lying near the feet of one of the 
Indians. To reach it with his hands, without disturbing 
the two Indians, to whom he was fastened, was impossible, 
and it was very hazardous to attempt to draw it up with 
his feet. This, however, he attempted. With much dif- 
ficulty he grasped the blade between his toes, and after 
repeated and long continued efforts, succeeded at length 
in bringing it within reach of his hands. 

To cut his cords, was then but the work of a moment, 
and gradually and silently extricating his person from the 
arms of the Indians, he walked to the fire and sat down. 
He saw that his work was but half done. That if be 
should attempt to return home, without destroying his 
e^jemies, he would assuredly be pursued and probably 
overtaken, when his fate would be certain. On the other 



ALEXANDER McCOJNNEL, 153 

hand, it seemed almost impossible for a smgle man to suc- 
ceed in a conflict with five Indians, even although unarmed 
and asleep. He could not hope to deal a blow with his 
knife so silently and fatally, as to destroy each one of his 
enemies in turn, without awakening the rest. Their 
slumbers were proverbially light and restless; and if he 
failed with a single one, he must instantly be overpowered 
by the survivors. The knife, therefore, was out of the 
question. 

After anxious reflection for a few minutes, he formed 
his plan. The guns of the Indians were stacked near the 
fire; their knives and tomahawks were in sheaths by their 
sides. The latter he dared not touch for fear of awaken- 
ing their owners ; but the former he carefully removed, 
with the exception of two, and hid them in the woods, 
where he knew the Indians would not readily find them. 
He then returned to the spot where the Indians were still 
sleeping, perfectly ignorant of the fate preparing for them, 
and taking a gun in each hand, he rested the muzzles upoR 
a log within six feet of his victims, and having taken de- 
liberate aim at the head of one, and the heart of another, 
he pulled both triggers at the same moment. 

Both shots were fatal. At the report of their guns, 
the others sprung to their feet, and stared wildly around 
them. McConnel, w^ho had run instantly to the spot 
where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized one of 
them and fired at two of his enemies, who happened to 
stand in a line with each other. The nearest fell dead, 
being shot through the centre of the body; the second 
fell also, bellowing loudly, but quickly recovering, limped 
ofi* into the woods as fast as possible. The fifth, and only 
one who remained unhurt, darted ofl* like a deer, with a 
yell which announced equal terror and astonishment. 
McConnel, not wishing to fight any more such battles, 
selected his own rifle from the stack, and made the best 
of his way to Lexington, where he arrived safely within 
two days. 

Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayette, who had 
been several months a prisoner amongst the Indians on 
Mad river, made her escape, and returned to Lexington. 



154 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

She reported, that the surviver returned to his tribe with 
a lamentable tale. He related that they had taken a fine 
young hunter near Lexington, and had brought him safely 
as far as the Ohio; that while encamped upon the bank 
of the river, a large party of white men had fallen upon 
them in the night, and killed all his companions, together 
with the poor defenceless prisoner, who lay bound hand 
and foot, unable either to escape or resist!! 

Early in May, 1781, McAfee's station, in the neighbor- 
hood of Harrodsburgh, was alarmed. On the morning 
of the Qth, Samuel McAfee, accompanied by another man, 
left the fort in order to visit a small plantation in the 
neighborhood, and at the distance of three hundred yards 
from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of Indians 
in ambush. The man who accompanied him instantly 
fell, and McAfee attempted to regain the fort. While 
running rapidly for that purpose, he found himself sud- 
denly intercepted by an Indian, who, springing out of the 
canebrake, planted himself directly in his path. There 
was no time for compliments. Each glared upon the 
other for an instant in silence, and both raising their 
guns at the same moment, pulled the triggers together. 
The Indian's rifle snapped, while McAfee's ball passed ' 
directly through his brain, Having no time to reload his 
gun, he sprung over the body of his antagonist, and con- 
tinued his flight to the fort. 

When within one hundred yards of the gate, he was 
met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who, at the 
report of the guns, had hurried out to the assistance of 
their brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their 
danger, and exhorted them instantly to return. James 
readily complied, but Robert, deaf to all remonstrances, 
declared that he must have a view of the dead Indian. 
He ran on, for that purpose, and having regaled himself 
with that spectacle, was hastily returning by the same 
path, when he saw five or six Indians between him and 
the fort, evidently bent upon taking him alive. All his 
activity and presence of mind was now put in requisition. 
He ran rapidly from tree to tree, endeavoring to tura 
their flank, and reach one of the gates, and after a vari- 



BRYANT AND HOG AN. 155 

ety of turns and doublings in the thick wood, he found 
himself pressed by only one Indian. McAfee, hastily 
throwing himself behind a fence, turned upon his pursuer 
and compelled him to take shelter behind a tree. 

Both stood still for a moment, McAfee having his gun 
cocked, and the sight fixed upon the tree, at the spot 
where he supposed the Indian w^ould thrust out his 
head in order to have a view of his antagonist. After 
waiting a few seconds he was gratified. The Indian 
slowly and cautiously exposed a part of his head, and be- 
gan to elevate his rifle. As soon as a sufficient mark 
presented itself McAfee fired, and the Indian fell. While 
turning, in order to continue his flight, he was fired on 
by a party of six, which compelled him again to tree. 
But scarcely had he done so, when, from the opposite 
quarter he received the fire of three more enemies, which 
made the bark fly around him, and knocked up the dust 
about his feet. Thinking his post rather too hot for 
safety, he neglected all shelter, and ran directly for the 
fort, which, in defiance of all opposition, he reached in 
safety, to the inexpressible joy of his brothers, who had 
despaired of his return. 

The Indians now opened a heavy fire upon the fort, m 
their usual manner; but finding every effort useless, they 
hastily decamped, without any loss beyond the two who 
had fallen by the hands of the brothers, and without 
having inflicted any upon the garrison. Within half an 
hour, Major McGary brought up a party from Harrods- 
burg at full gallop, and uniting with the garrison, pursued 
the enemy with all possible activity. They soon over- 
took them, and a sharp action ensued. The Indians were 
routed in a few minutes, with the loss of six warriors \e& 
dead upon the ground, and many others wounded, who as 
usual were borne off. The pursuit was continued for 
several miles, but from the thickness of the woods, and 
the extreme activity and address of the enemy, was not 
very effectual. McGary lost one man dead upon the 
spot, and another mortally wounded. 

About the same time, Bryant's station was much har- 
assed by small parties of the enemy. This, as we have 



156 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

already remarked, was a frontier post, and generally ro 
ceived the brunt of Indian hostility. It had been settled 
in 1779 by four brothers from North Carolina, one of 
whom, William, had married a sister of Colonel Daniel 
Boone. The Indians were constantly lurking in the neigh- 
borhood, waylaying the paths, stealing their horses, and 
butchering their cattle. It at length became necessary 
to hunt in parties of twenty or thirty men, so as to be 
able to meet and repel those attacks, which were every 
day becoming more bold and frequent. 

One afternoon, about the 20th of May, William Bryant, 
accompanied by twenty men, left the fort on a hunting 
expedition down the Elkhorn creek. They moved with 
caution, until they had passed all the points where ambus- 
cades had generally been formed, when, seeing no enemy, 
they became more bold, and determined, in order to sweep 
a large extent of country, to divide their company into 
two parties. One of them, conducted by Bryant in per- 
son, was to descend the Elkhorn on its southern bank, 
flanking out largely, and occupy as much ground as pos- 
sible. The other, under the orders of James Hogan, a 
young farmer in good circumstances, was to move down 
in a parallel line upon the north bank. The two parties 
were to meet at night, and encamp together at the mouth 
of Cane run. 

Each punctually performed the first part of their plans. 
Hogan, however, had travelled but a few hundred yards, 
when he heard a loud voice behind him exclaim in very 
good English, "stop boys!" Hastily looking back, they 
saw several Indians, on foot, pursuing them as rapidly as 
possible. Without halting to count numbers, the party 
put spurs to their horses, and dashed through the woods 
at full speed, the Indians keeping close behind them, and 
at times gaining upon them. There was a led horse iia 
company, which had been brought with them for the pur- 
pose of packing game. This was instantly abandoned, 
and fell into the hands of the Indians. Several of them 
lost their hats in the eagerness of flight; but quickly get- 
ting into the open woods, they left their pursuers so far 
behind, that they had leisure to breathe and inquire of 



BRYANT AKD HOGAK. 15t 

each other, whether it wa^ worth while to kill their 
horses before they had ascertained the number of the 
enemy. 

They quickly determined to cross the creek, and await 
the approach of the Indians, If they found them superior 
to their own and Bryant"'s party united, they would imme 
diately return to the fort; as, by continuing their march 
to the mouth of Cane run, they would bring a superior 
enemy upon their friends, and endanger the lives of the 
whole party. They accordingly crossed the creek, dis 
mounted, and awaited the approach of the enemy. B^ 
this time it had become dark. The Indians were distinct- 
ly heard approaching the creek upon the opposite side, 
and after a short halt, a solitary warrior descended the 
bank and began to wade through the stream. 

Hogan waited until they had emerged from the gloom 
of the trees which grew upon the bank, and as soon as he 
had reached the middle of the stream, where the light was 
more distinct, he took deliberate aim and fired, A great 
splashing in the water was heard, but presently ail became 
quiet. The pursuit was discontinued, and the party re- 
mounting their horses, returned home. Anxious, however, 
to apprize Bryant's party of their danger, they left the 
fort before daylight on the ensuing mci ring, and rode rap- 
idly down the creek, in the direction of the mouth of Cane* 
When within a few hundred yards of the spot where they 
supposed the encampment to be, they heard the report of 
many guns in quick succession. Supposing that Bryant 
had fallen in with a herd of buffalo, they quickened their 
march in order to take part in the sport. 

The morning was foggy, and the smoke of the guns 
lay so heavily upon the ground that they could see noth- 
ing until they had approached within twenty yards of the 
creek, when they suddenly found themselves within pistol 
shot of a party of Indians, very composedly seated upon 
their packs, and preparing their pipes. Both parties were 
much startled, but quickly recovering, they sheltered 
themselves as usual, and the action opened with great vi- 
vacity. The Indians maintained their ground for half an 
hour, with some firmne?^* but being hard presaged in front, 

N 



158 WESTERN ADVEr^TURE. 

and turned in flank, they at length gave way, and being 
closely pursued, were ultimately routed, with considerable 
loss, which, however, could not be distinctly ascertained. 
Of Hogan's party, one man was killed on the spot, and 
three others wounded, none mortally. 

It happened that Bryant's company, had encamped at 
the mouth of Cane, as had been agreed upon, and were 
unable to account for Hogan's absence. That, about day- 
light, they had heard a bell at a distance, which they im- 
mediately recognized as the one belonging to the led horse 
which had accompanied Hogan's party, and which, as we 
have seen, had been abandoned to the enemy the evening 
before. Supposing their friends to be bewildered in the 
fog, and unable to find their camp, Bryant, accompanied 
by Grant, one of his men, mounted a horse, and rode to 
the spot v/here the bell was still ringing. The}^ quickly 
fell into an ambuscade, and were fired upon. Bryant was 
mortally, and Grant severely wounded, the first being 
shot through the hip and both knees, the latter through the 
back. 

Being both able to keep the saddle, however, they set 
spurs to their horses, and arrived at the station shortly 
after breakfast. The Indians, in the mean time, had fal- 
len upon the encampment, and instantly dispersed it, and 
while preparing to regale themselves after their victory, 
were suddenly attacked, as we have seen, by Hogan. The 
timidity of Hogan's party, at the first appearance of the 
Indians, was the cause of the death of Bryant. The same 
men who fled so hastily in the evening, were able the 
next morning by a little firmness, to vanquish the same 
party of Indians. Had they stood at first, an equal suc- 
cess would probably have attended them, and the life of 
their leader would have been preserved. 

' We have now to notice an adventure of a diflferent kind, 
and which, from its singularity, is entitled to a place in our 
pages. In 1781, Lexington was only a cluster of cabins, 
one of which, near the spot where the court house now 
stands, was used as a school house. One morning in 
May, McKinley, the teacher, was sitting alone at his desk, 
biasily engaged in writing, when hearing a slight noise at 



McKJTn-LEY. 159 

the door, he turned his head, and beheld — what do you 
suppose, reader? A tall Indian in his war paint? bran- 
dishing his tomahawk, or handling his knife? No! an 
enormous cat, with her forefeet upon the step of the door, 
her tail curled over her back, her bristles erect, and her 
eyes glanced rapidly through the room, as if in search of 
a mouse. 

McKinley's position at first completely concealed him, 
but a slight and involuntary motion of his chair, at sight 
of this shaggy inhabitant of the forest, attracted puss's 
attention, and their eyes met. McKinley having heard 
much of the powers of " the human face divine," in quel- 
ling the audacity of wild animals, attempted to disconcert 
the inti*uder by a frown. But puss was not to be bullied. 
Her eyes flashed fire, her tail waved angrily, and she be- 
gan to gnash her teeth, evidently bent upon serious hos- 
tility. Seeing his danger, McKinley hastily arose and 
attempted to snatch a cylindrical rule from a table which 
stood within reach, but the cat was too quick for him. 

Darting upon him with the proverbial activity of bar 
tribe, she fastened upon his side w^ith her teeth, and began 
to rend and tear with her claws like a fury. McKinley's 
€lothes were in an instant torn from his side, and his flesh 
dreadfully mangled by the enraged animal, whose strength 
and ferocity filled him with astonishment. He in vain 
attempted to disengage her from his side. Her long sharp 
teeth were fastened between his ribs, and his eflbrts serv- 
ed but to enrage her the more. Seeing his blood flow 
very copiously from the numerous wounds in his side, he 
became seriously alarmed, and not knowing what else to 
do, he threw himself upon the edge of the table and pres- 
sed her against the sharp corner with the whole weight ef 
his body. 

The cat now began to utter the most wild and discor- 
dant cries, and McKinley, at the same time, lifting up his 
voice in concert, the two together sent forth notes so dole- 
ful as to alarm the whole town. Women, who are always 
the first in hearing or spreading news, were now the first 
to come to McKinley's assistance. But so strange and 
unearthly was the harmony within the school house, that 



laO WESTERiS ADVEMURE. 

they hesitated long before they ventured to enter. At 
length the boldest of them rushed in, and seeing McKin- 
ley bending over the corner of the table, and writhing his 
body as if in great pain, she at first supposed that he was 
laboring under a severe fit of the colic; but quickly per- 
ceiving the cat, which was nov/ in the agonies of death, 
ghe screamed out, "w^hy good heaven! Mr. McKinley, 
what is the matter?" 

"I have caught a cat, madam T' replied he, gravely 
urning around, while the sweat streamed from his face 
under the mingled operation of fright, and fatigue, and 
agony. Most of the neighbors had now arrived^ and 
attempted to disengage the dead cat from her antagonist; 
but, so firmly were her tusks locked between his ribs, that 
this was a work of no small difficulty. Scarcely had it 
been effected, when McKinley became very sick, and was 
compelled to go to bed. In a few days, however, he had 
totally recovered, and so late as 1820, was alive, and a 
resident of Bourbon county, Ky., v/here he was often 
been heard to affirm, that he, at any time, had rather fight 
two Indians than one wild cat. 

About the same time, a conflict, more unequal and 
equally remarkable, took place in another part of the 
country. David Morgan, a relation of the celebrated 
General Daniel Morgan, had settle^d upon the Monongahela, 
during the earlier period of the revolutionary war, and at 
this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the distance 
of several miles from any settlement. One morning, 
having sent his younger children out to a field at a con- 
siderable distance from the house, he became uneasy about 
them, and repaired to the spot where they were working, 
armed as usual with a good rifle. While sitting upon the 
fence, and giving some directions as to their work, he ob- 
-served two Indians upon the other side of the field gazing 
earnestly upon the party. He instantly called to the 
children to make their escape, while he should attempt to 
cover their retreat. 

The odds were greatly against him, as in addition to 
other circumstances, he w^as nearly seventy years of 
age, and of course unable to contend with his enemies in 



DAVID MCRGAN. 151 

running. The house was more than a mile distant, but 
the children, having two hundred yards the start, and be- 
ing effectually covered by their father, were soon so far 
in front, that the Indians turned their attention entirely 
to the old man. He ran for se^xral hundred 3y'ards with 
an activity w^hich astonished himself, but perceiving that 
he w^ouid be overtaken, long before he could reach his 
h'?me, he fairly turned at bay, and prepared for a strenu- 
ous resistance. The w^oods through which they were 
running, were very thin, and consisted almost entirely 
of small trees, behind which, it was difficult to obtain 
proper shelter. 

When Morgan adopted the above mentioned resolution, 
he had just passed a large w^alnut, which stood like a 
patriarch among the saplings which surrounded it, and it 
became necessary to run back about ten steps in order to 
regain it. The Indians became startled at the sudden 
advance of the fugitive, and were compelled to halt 
among a cluster of saplings, wdiere they anxiously strove 
to shelter themselves. This, however, was impossible, 
and Morgan, who was an excellent marksman, saw^ enough 
of the person of one of them to justify him in risking a 
shot. His enemy instantly fell mortally wounded. Th-e 
other Indian, taking advantage of Morgan's empty guuj 
sprung from his shelter and advanced rapidly upon him. 
The old man, having no time to reload his gun, was com- 
pelled to fly a second time. The Indian gained rapidly 
upon him, and w^hen wdthin twenty steps, fired, but w^ith 
so unsteady an aim, that Morgan was totally unhurt, the 
ball having passed over his shoulder. 

He now again stood at bay, clubbing his rifle for a 
blow, v/hila the Indian dropping his empty gun, brandished 
his tomahawk and prepared to throv/ it at his enemy. 
Morgan struck with the biit of his gun, and the Indian 
whirled his tomahawk at one and the same moment. 
Both blows took efiect; and both were at once vv^ounded 
and disarmed. The breech of the rifle was broken 
against the Indian's skull, and the edge of the tomahawk 
was shattered against the barrel of the rifle, having first 
cut off two of the fingers of Morgan's left hand. The 



16g WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Indian then attempting to draw his krife, Morgan grap- 
pled him and bore him to the ground. A furious struggle 
ensued, in which the old man's strength failed, and the 
Indian succeeded in turning him. 

Planting his knee in the breast of his enemy, and yell- 
ing loudly, as is usual with them upon any turn of fortune, 
he again felt for his knife in order to terminate the strug- 
gle at once; but having lately stolen a woman's apron, 
and tied it around his waist, his knife was so much con- 
fined, that he had great difficulty in finding the handle. 
Morgan, in the mean time, being a regular pugilist, ac 
cording to the custom of Virginia, and perfectly at home 
in a ground struggle, took advantage of the awkwardness 
of the Indian, and got one of the fingers of his right hand 
between his teeth. The Indian tugged and roared in 
vain, struggling to extricate it. Morgan held him fast, 
and began to assist him in hunting for the knife. Each 
seized it at the same moment, the Indian by the blade 
and Morgan by the handle, but with a very slight hold. 

The Indian having the firmest hold, began to draw the 
knife further out of its sheath, when Morgan suddenly 
giving his finger a furious bite, twitched the knife dexter- 
ously through his hand, cutting it severely. Both now 
sprung to their feet, Morgan brandishing his adversary's 
knife, and still holding his finger between his teeth. In 
vain the poor Indian struggled to get away, rearing, 
plunging, and bolting like an unbroken colt. The teeth 
of the white man w^ere like a vise, and he at length suc- 
ceeded in giving him a stab in the side. The Indian 
received it without falling, the knife having struck his 
ribs; but a second blow, aimed at the stomach, proved 
more effectual, and the savage fell. Morgan thrust the 
knife, handle and all, into the cavity of the body, directed 
it upward, and starting to his feet, made the best of his 
way home. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and hurrying to 
the spot where the struggle had taken place, they found 
the first Indian lying where he had fallen, but the second 
had disappeared. A broad trail of blood, however, con- 
ducted to a fallen tree top, within one hundred yards of 



ADAM POE. 103 

the spot, into which the poor fellow had dragged himself, 
and where he now lay bleeding, but still alive. He had 
plucked the knife from his wound, and was endeavoring 
to dress it with the stolen apron which had cost him his 
life, when his enemies approached. The love of life 
appeared still strong within him, however. He greeted 
them with what was intended for an insinuating smile, 
held out his hand and exclaimed in broken English, 
"how de do, broder! how de do! glad to see you!" But 
poor fellow, the love was all on his side. Their brother- 
hood extended only to tomahawking, scalping, and skin- 
ning him, all of which operations were performed within 
a few minutes after the meeting. To such an extent 
had mutual injury inflamed both parties. 

About the middle of July, 1782, seven Wyandotts 
crossed the Ohio a few miles above Wheeling, and com- 
mitted great depredations upon the southern shore, killing 
an old man Vv^hom they found alone in his cabin, and 
spreading terror throughout the neighborhood. Within a 
few hours after their retreat, eight m.en assembled from 
different parts of the small settlement and pursued the 
enemy with great expedition. Among the most active 
and efficient of the party were two brothers, Adam and 
Andrew Poe. Adam was particularly popular. In 
strength, action, and hardihood, he had no equal, being 
finely formed and inured to all the perils of the woods. 
They had not followed the trail far, before they became 
satisfied that the depredators were conducted by Big Foot, 
a renowned chief of the Wyandott tribe, who derived his 
name from the immense size of his feet. 

His height considerably exceeded six feet, and his 
strength was represented as Herculean. He had also 
five brothers, but little inferior to himself in size and 
courage, and as tiiey generally went in compan}', they 
were the terror of the whole country. Adam Poe was 
overjo^^ed at the idea of measuring his strength with that 
of so celebrated a chief, and urged the pursuit with a 
keenness which quickly brought him into the vicinity of 
the enemy. For the last few miles, the trail had led 
them up the southern bank of the Ohio, where the foot- 



164 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

prints m the sand were deep and obvious, but whers 
within a few hundred yards of the point at which the 
whites as well as the Indians were in the habit of cross- 
ing, it suddenly diverged from the stream, and stretched 
along a rocky ridge, forming an obtuse angle with its 
former direction. 

Here Adam halted for a moment, and directed his 
brother and the other young men to follow the trail with 
proper caution, while he himself still adhered to the river 
^ath, which led through clusters of willows directly to 
the point where he supposed the enemy to lie. Having 
examined the priming of his gun^ he crept cautiously 
through the bushes, until he had a view of the point of 
embarcation. Plere lay two canoes, empty and apparently 
deserted. Being satisfied, however, that the Indians 
were close at hand, he relaxed nothing of his vigilance^, 
and quickly gained a jutting cliff, which hung immediately 
over the canoes. Hearing a low murmur below, he 
peered cautiously over, and beheld the object of his 
search. The gigantic Big Foot, lay below him in the 
shade of a w^illow, and w^as talking in a low deep tone to 
another warrior, who seemed a mere pigmy by his side. 

Adam cautiously drew back, and cocked his gun. The 
mark was fair — the distance did not exceed twenty feet, 
and his aim was unerring. Raising his rifle slowly and 
cautiously, he took a steady aim at Big Foot^s breast, and 
drew the trigger. His gun flashed. Both Indians sprung 
to their feet with a deep interjection of surprise, and for a 
single second all three stared upon each other. This in- 
activity, however, was soon over. Adam was too much 
liarapered by the bushes to retreat, and setting his life 
upon a cast of the die, he sprung over the bush which had 
sheltered him, and summoning all his powers, leaped bold- 
ly do*vvn the precipice and alighted upon the breast of Big 
Foot with a shock which bore him to the earth. 

At the moment of contact, Adam had also thrown his 
right arm around the neck of the smaller Indian, so that 
all three came to the earth together. At that moment a 
sharp firing was heard among the bushes above, announc- 
ing that the other parties were engaged, but the trio 



ADAM POE. 155 

below were too busy to attend to any thing but themselves. 
Big Foot was for an instant stunned by the violence of 
the shock, and Adam v^as enabled to keep them both down. 
But the exertion necessary for that purpose was so great, 
that he had no leisure to use his knite. Big Foot quickly 
recovered, and without attempting to rise, wrapped his 
long arms around Adam's body, and pressed him to his 
breast with the crushing force of a Boa Constrictor- Ad- 
am, as we have already remarked, was a powerful man, 
and had seldom encountered his equal, but never had he 
yet felt an embrace like that of Big Foot. 

He instantly relaxed his hold of the small Indian, who 
sprung to his feet. Big Foot then ordered him to run for 
his tomahawk Vvhich lay within ten steps, and kill the 
white man, while he held him in his arms. Adam, seeing 
his danger, struggled manfully to extricate himself from 
the folds of the giant, but in vain. The lesser Indian 
approached with his uplifted tomahawk, but Adam v/atched 
nim closely, and as he was about to strike, gave him a kick 
no sudden and violent, as to knock the tomahawk from his 
hand, and send him staggering back into the v/ater. Big 
Foot uttered an exclamation in a tone of deep contempt at 
the failure of his companion, and raising his voice to its 
highest pitch, thundered out several words in the Indian 
tongue, which Adam could not understand, but supposed to 
be a direction for a second attack. 

The lesser Indian now again approached, carefully 
shunning Adam's heels, and making many motions with 
his tomahawk, in order to deceive him as to the point 
where the blow would fall. This lasted for several sec- 
onds, until a thundering exclamation from Big Foot, com- 
pelled his companion to strike. Such was Adam's dex. 
terity and vigilance, however, that he managed to receive 
the tomahawk in a glancing direction upon his left wrist, 
wounding him deeply but not disabling him. lie now 
made a sudden and desperate effort to free himself 
from the arms of the giant and succeeded. Instantly 
snatching up a rifle (for the Indian could not venture to 
Bhoot for fear of hurting his companion) he shot the lesser 
Indian through the body. 



me WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

But scarcely had he done so when Big Foot arose^ and 
placing one hand upon his collar and the other upon his 
hip, pitched him ten feet into the air, as he himself wou.ld 
have pitched a child. Adam fell upon his back at the 
edge of the water, but before his antagonist could spring 
upon him, he was again upon his feet, and stung with rage 
at the idea of being handled so easily, he attacked his 
gigantic antagonist with a fury w^hich for a time compen 
sated for inferiority of strength. It was now a fair fist 
fight between them, for in the hurry of the struggle neither 
had leisure to draw their knives. Adam's superior ac- 
tivity and experience as a pugilist, gave him great advan- 
tage. The Indian struck awkwardly, and finding himself 
rapidly dropping to leeward, he closed with his antagonist, 
and again hurled him to the ground. 

They quickly rolled into the river, and the struggle 
continued with unabated fury, each attempting to drown 
the other. The Indian being unused to such violent ex 
ertion, and having been much injured by the first shock in 
his stomach, was unable to exert the same pov/ers w^hich 
had given him such a decided superiority at first; and 
Adam, seizing him by the scalp lock, put his head under 
water, and held it there, until the faint struggles of the 
Indian induced him to believe that he was drowned, when 
he relaxed his hold and attempted to draw his knife. The 
Indian, however, to use Adam's own expression, "had 
only been possuming!" 

He instantly regained his feet, and in his turn put his ad 
versary under. In the struggle both were carried out into 
the current, beyond their depth, and each was compelled to 
relax his hold and swim for his life. There w^as still one 
loaded rifle upon the shore, and each swam hard in order 
to reach it, but the Indian proved the most expert swim- 
mer, and Adam seeing that he should be too late, turned 
and 'swam out into the stream, intending to dive and thus 
frustrate his enemy^s intention. At this instant, Andrew, 
having heard that his brother w^as alone in a struggle 
with two Indians, and in great danger, ran up hastily to 
the edge of the bank above in order to assist him. An- 
other wiiite man followed him closely, and seeing Adam 



ADAM POE. 159 

in the river, covered with blood, and swimming rapidly 
from shore, mistook him for an Indian and fired upon hini; 
wounding him dangerously in the shoulder. 

Adam turned, and seeing his brother, called loudly upon 
him to " shoot the big Indian upon the shore .''^ Andre w^s 
gun, however, was empty, having just been discharged. 
Fortunately, Big Foot had also seized the gun with which 
Adam had shot the lesser Indian, so that both were upon 
^an equality. The contest now was vv^ho should load first 
Big Foot poured in his powder firet, and drawing his ram- 
rod out of its sheath in too great a hurry, threw it into the 
river, and while he ran to recover it, Andrew gained an 
advantage. Still the Indian was but a second too late, 
for his gun was at his shoulder, when Andrew^s ball en- 
tered his breast. The gun dropped from his hands and he 
fell forward upon his face upon the very margin of the river, 

Andrew, now alarmed for his brother, who v/as scarcely 
able to swim, threw down his gun and rushed into the 
river in order to bring him ashore; but Adam, more intent 
upon securing the scalp of Big Foot as a trophy, than 
upon his own safety, called loudly upon his brother to 
leave him alone and scalp the big Indian, who was now 
endeavoring to roll himself into the water, from a romantic 
desire, peculiar to the Indian warrior, of securing his scalp 
from the enemy. Andrev/, however, refused to obey, and 
insisted upon saving the living, before attending to the 
dead. Big Foot, in the mean time, had succeeded in 
reaching the deep water before he expired, and his body 
was borne off by the waves, v/ithout being stripped of the 
ornament and pride of an Indian warrior. 

Not a man of the Indians had escaped. Five of Big 
Foot's brothers, the flower of the Wyandott nation, had 
accompanied him in the exjpedition, and all perished. It 
is said that the nev/s of this calamity, threw the whole 
tribe into mourning. Their remarkable size, their cour- 
age, and their superior intelligence, gave them immetise 
influence, which, greatly to their credit, was generally 
exerted on the side of humanity. Their powerful interpo- 
sition, had saved many prisoners from the stake, and had 
given a milder character to the warfare of the Indians in 



170 WKSTEKiV ADVET^TUKE. 

that part of the country. A chief of the same name v/as 
aiive in that part of the country so late as 1792, but 
whether a brother or son of Big Foot, is not known. Adam 
Poe recovered of his wounds, and lived many years after 
his memorable conflict; but never forgot the tremendous 
" hug " which he sustained in the arms of Big Foot. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The present, like the preceding chapter, will be devoted 
to miscellaneous items of intelligence, arranged in chro- 
nological order. About the middle of the summer of 179^2, 
a gentleman named Woods, imprudently removed from the 
neighborhood of a station, and for the benefit of his stock, 
settled on a lonely heath, near Beargrass. One mornmg 
he left his family, consisting of a wife, a daughter not 
yet grown, and a lame negro man, and rode off to the 
nearest station, not expecting to return until night. Mrs. 
Woods, while engaged in her dairy, was alarmed at see- 
ing several Indians rapidly approaching the house. Bhe 
instantly screamed loudly, in order to give the alarm, and 
ran with her utmost speed, in order to reach the house be- 
fore them. In this she succeeded, but had not tim.e to close 
the door until the foremost Indian had forced his way into 
the house. As soon as he entered, the lame negro grap- 
pled him and attempted to throw him upon the floor, but 
was himself hurled to the ground with violence, the In- 
dian falling upon him. 

Mrs. Woods was too busily engaged in keeping the door 
closed against the party without, to attend to the combat- 
ants, but the lame negro, holding the Indian in his arms, 
called to the young girl to cut his head off with a very 
sharp axe which lay under the bed. She attempted to 
obey, but struck with so trembling a hand, that the blow 
was ineffectual. Repeating her efforts under the direc- 
tion of the negro, how^ever, she at length wounded the 
Indian so badly, that the negro was enabled to arise and 



DAVIS, CAFFREE, AND McCLURE. 171 

complete the execution. Elated with success, he then 
called to his mistress and told her to suffer another Indian 
to enter and they would kill them all one by one. While 
deliberating upon this proposal, however, a sharp firing 
was heard without, and the Indians quickly disappeared. 
A party of white men had seen them at a distance, and 
having followed them cautiously, had now interposed, at a 
very critical moment, and rescued a helpless family from 
almost certain destruction. 

In the spring of 1784, three young Kentuckians, Davis, 
Caffree, and McClure, pursued a party of southern In- 
dians, who had stolen horses from Lincoln county, and 
finding it impossible to overtake them, they determined to 
go on to the nearest Indian settlem.ent, and make repri- 
sals, horse stealing being at that time a very fashionable 
amusement, and much practised on both sides. After 
travelling several days, they came within a few miles of 
an Indian town near the Tennessee river, called Chica- 
caugo. Here they fell in with three Indians. Finding 
themselves equal in point of numbers, the two parties 
made signs of peace, shook hands and agreed to travel 
together. Each, however, was evidently suspicious of the 
other. The Indians walked upon one side of the road 
and the whites upon the other, watching each other atten- 
tively. 

At length, the Indians spoke together in tones so low 
and earnest, that the whites became satisfied of their 
treacherous intentions, and determined to anticipate them. 
Cafii-ee being a very powerful man, proposed that he him- 
self should seize one Indian, v/hile Davis and McClure 
should shoot the other two. The plan was a bad one, but 
was unfortunately adopted. Caffi-ee sprung boldly upon 
the nearest Indian, grasped his throat firmly, hurled him 
to the ground, and drawing a cord from his pocket at- 
tempted to tie him. At the same instant Davis and Mc- 
Clure attempted to perform their respective parts. Mc- 
Clure killed his man, but Davis' gun missed fire. AM 
three, i. e. the two white men, and the Indian at whom 
Davis had flashed, immediately took trees, and prepared 
for a skirmish, while Cafii'ee remained upon the ground 



172 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

with the captured Indian, both exposed to the fire of thQ 
others. 

In a few seconds, the savage at whom Davis had 
flashed, shot Caffree as he lay upon the ground and gave 
him a mortal wound, and v/as instantly shot in turn by 
McClure, who had reloaded his gun. CafFree becoming 
very weak, called upon Davis to come and assist him in 
tying the Indian, and instantly afterwards expired. As 
Davis was running up to the assistance of his friend, the 
Indian, now released by the death of his captor, sprung to 
his feet, and seizing CafFree's rifle, presented it menac- 
ingly at Davis, whose gun was not in order for service, 
and who ran off* into the forest, closely pursued by the In- 
dian. McClure hastily reloaded his gun, and taking up 
the rifle which Davis had dropped, followed them for some 
distance into the forest, making all those signals which 
had been concerted between them, in case of separation. 
All, however, was vain; he saw nothing more of Davis, 
nor could he ever after v/ards learn his fate. As he never 
returned to Kentucky, hov/ever, he probably perished. 

McClure, finding himself alone in the enemy's country, 
and surrounded by dead bodies, thought it prudent to aban- 
don the object of the expedition and return to Kentucky. 
He accordingly retraced his steps, still bearing Davis' ri- 
fle in addition to his own. He had scarcely marched a 
mile, before he saw advancing from the opposite direction, 
an Indian warrior, riding a horse with a bell around its 
neck, and accompanied by a boy on foot. Dropping one 
of the rifles, v/hich might have created suspicion, McClure 
advanced with an air of confidence, extending his hand 
and making other signs of peace. The opposite party 
appeared frankly to receive his overtures, and dismount- 
ing, seated himself upon a log, and drawing out his pipe, 
gave a few puffs himself, and then handed it to McClure. 

In a fev/ minutes another bell was heard, at the distance 
of half a mile, and a second party of Indians appeared 
upon horseback. The Indian with McClure now coolly 
informed him by signs that when the horsemen arrived, 
he (McClure) was to be bound and carried off* as a prisoner 
with his feet tied under the horse's belly. In order to 



THOiMAS MARSHALL. 173 

explain it more fully, the Indian got astride of the log, 
and locked his legs together underneath it. McGlure 
internally thanking the fellow for his excess of candor, de- 
termined to disappoint him, and v/hile his enemy was busi- 
ly engaged in riding the log, and mimicking the actions 
of a prisoner, he very quietly blew his brains out, and ran 
off into the woods. The Indian boy instantly mounted 
the belled horse, and rode cif in an opposite dii-ection. 

McClure was fiercely pursued by several small Indian 
dogs, that frequently ran between his legs and threv/ him 
down. After falling five or six times, his eyes became 
full of dust, and he - was totally blind. Despairing of 
escape, he doggedly lay upon his face, expecting every 
instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk. To his aston- 
ishment, hov/ever, no enemy appeared, and even the Indi- 
an dogs, after tugging at him for a few minutes, and com- 
pletely stripping him of his breeches, left him to continue 
his journey unmolested. Finding every thing quiet, in 
a few moments he arose, and taking up his gun, con- 
tinued his march to Kentucky. He reached home in safe- 
ty, and in 1820 was still alive. This communication is 
from his own lips, and may be relied upon as correct. 

In the course of the next year, many families came 
down the Ohio in boats, landed at Maysville, and continu- 
ed their route by land, in such parts of the country as 
pleased them. Oat of a number of incidents, which at- 
tended the passage of boats down the river, I shall select, 
two, as worthy of being mentioned. Colonel Thomas 
Marshall, formerly commander of the third Virginia reg- 
iment on continental establishment, and subsequently 
holding the same rank in the Virginia artillery, embarked 
with a numerous family on board of a flat bottomed boat, 
and descended the Ohio, \tithout any incident v/orthy of 
notice, until he had passed the mouth of Kenawha. Here, 
about ten o'clock at night, he was hailed from the north 
ern shore, by a man who spoke good English, and quickly 
announced himself as James Girty, the brother of Simon, 
both of whom have already been repeatedly mentioned. The 
boat dropped slowly down within one hundred and fifty yards 
of the shore, and Girty making a corresponding m9ve- 



174 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ment on the beach, the conference was kept up for sever- 
al minutes. He began by mentioning his name^ and 
inquiring that of the master of the boat. 

Having been satisfied upon this head, he assured him 
that he knew him well, respected him highly, &c. Slc, 
and concluded with some rather extraordinary remarks. 
^^He had been posted there, he said, by the order of his 
brother Simon, to warn ail boats of the danger of permit- 
ting themselves to be decoyed ashore. The Indians had 
become jealous of him^ and he had lost that influence 
which he formerly held amongst them. He deeply regret- 
ted the injury which he had inflicted upon his countrymen^ 
and wished to be restored to their society. In order to 
convince them of the sincerity of his regard, he had di- 
rected him to warn all boats of the snares spread for them. 
Every effort would be made to draw passengers ashore. 
White men would appear on the bank ; and children would 
be heard to supplicate for mercy. But, continued he, do 
you keep the middle of the river, and steel your heart 
against every mournful application which you may re- 
ceive." The colonel thanked him for his intelligence, 
and continued his course. 

From this it w^ould appear, that Girty's situation was by 
no means enviable. The superior intelligence which had 
first given him influence, gradually attracted envy. Com- 
binations were probably formed against him, as they are 
in civilized life, against every man who is guilty of the 
unpardonable offence of mounting rapidly above his fel- 
lows. Ambition, jealousy, intrigue, combinations for par- 
ticular objects, prevail as strongly among savages as among 
civilized beings, and spring in each from the same source 
— a tender, passionate, inordinate love of self— a passion 
the, most universal, deeply rooted, and infinitely diversi- 
fied in its operations, of any in existence— -a passion as 
strong and easily oflended in the degraded Hottentot, as 
in the Emperor Napoleon, in the superannuated old woman, 
as in the blooming belle — the only human passion which 
age cannot tame, or misery extinguish or experience cure, 
or philosophy expel ; which flutters as strongly in the jaws 
of death, as in the vigor of life, and is as buoyant and rid- 



JAMES WAKtr I75 

iculous in the breast of the philosopher, as in that of a 
village beauty. Nothing more was ever heard of Girty's 
wish to be restored to his station in society; but his warn- 
ing, by whatever motive dictated, was of service to many 
families. 

About the same time, Captain James Ward, at present 
a highly respectable citizen of Mason county, Ky., was 
descending the Ohio, under circumstances which rendered 
a renconter with the Indians peculiarly to be dreaded. 
He, together with half a dozen others, one of them his 
nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, about forty-five feet 
long, and eight feet wide, with no other bulwark than a 
single pine plank, above each gunnel. The boat was 
much encumbered with baggage, and seven horses were 
on board. Having seen no enemy for several days, they 
had become secure and careless, and permitted the boat 
to drift within fifty yards of the Ohio shore. Suddenly^ 
several hundred Indians showed them.s elves on the bank, 
and running down boldly to the water's edge, opened a 
heavy fire upon the boat. The astonishment of the crew 
may be conceived. 

Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when 
the enemy appeared, and the captain knowing that their 
safety depended upon their ability to regain the middle of 
the river, kept his seat firmly, and exerted his utmost pow 
ers at the oar, but his nephew started up at sight of the 
enemy, seized his rifle and was in the act of levelling it, 
when he received a ball in the breast, and fell dead in the 
bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar fell into the 
river, and the Captain, having no one to pull against him, 
rather urged the boat nearer to the hostile shore than 
otherwise. He quickly seized a plank, however, and giv- 
ing his own oar to another of the crew, he took the station 
which his nephew had held, and unhurt by the shower of 
bullets which flew around him, continued to exert himself, 
until the boat had reached a more respectable distance. 
He then, for the first time, looked around him in order to 
observe the condition of the crew. 

His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless; the 
horses had been all killed or mortally wounded. Some 



176 AVESTERN APVENTlRi:. 

had follen overboard; others were stniogling violentIv% 
and causing their fi*ail bark to dip water so abundantly, 
a^ to excite tlie most seriou^ apprehensions. But the crew 
presented the most singidar spectacle. A capiiiin, ^^ ho 
had served with reputati. n in the continental army, seem- 
ed now totally bereft of his t'aculties. He lay upon his 
back in the bottom of the boat, with hands uplifted and a 
countenance in which terix)r was personified, exciaimin«x 
in a tone of despair, ^^Oh Lord! Oh Lord!'' A Dutchman, 
whose weight might amount to about three hundred pounds, 
was anxiously engaged in endeavoring to lind shelter for 
his bulky person, which, from the lowness of the gunnels, 
was a very ditlicult undertaking. In spite of his utmost 
eflbrts, a portion of his posterial luxuriance, appeared 
above the gunnel, and atforded a mark to the enemy, 
which brought a constant shower of balls around it. 

In vain he sliified his position. Tlie hump still appear- 
ed, and the balls still llew around it, until the Dutchman 
.osmg ail patience, r jsed his head above the gunnel, and 
in a tone of querulous remonstrance, called out, "oh now! 
quit tat tamned nonsense, tore, will you!'' Not a shot was 
fired from the boat. At one time, alter they had partly 
regained the current, Captain Ward attempted to bring hii^ 
ritie to bear upon them, but so violent was the agitation d' 
the boat, from the furious struggles of the horses, that he 
could not steady his piece within twenty yards of the ene- 
my, and quickly laying it aside, returned to the oar. The 
Indians followed tiiem down the river for more than an 
hour, but having no canoes, they did not attempt to board; 
and as the boat was at length transierred to the opposite 
side of the river, they at length abandoned the pursuit 
and disappeared. None of the crew, save the young man 
already mentioned, were hurt, although the Dutchman's 
se^t of honor served as a target for the space of an hour, 
and the continental captain was deeply mortified at the 
sudden, and, as he said, *• unaccountable" panic which had 
seized him. Captain Ward himself was protected by a 
post, which had been tastened to the gunnel, and behind 
which he sat while rowing. 

In the month of Aucrust, 1780, Mr. Francis Downing, 



FR AIM CIS DOWNING, 177 

then a mere lad, was living in a fort, where subsequently 
some iron works were erected by Mr. Jacob Myers, which 
are now known by the name of Slate creek works, and 
are the property of Colonel Thomas Dye O wrings. About 
the 16th, a young man belonging to the fort, called upon 
Downing, and requested his assistance in hunting for a 
horse which had strayed away on the preceding evening. 
Downing readily complied, and the two friends traversed 
the woods in every direction, until at length, towards 
evening, they found themselves in a y/ild valley/, at tha 
distance of six or seven miles from the fort. Here Down- 
ing became alarmed, and repeatedly assured his elder 
companion, (v/hose name was Yates,) that he heard sticks 
cracking behind them, and was confident that Indians were 
dogging them. Yates, being an experienced hunter, and 
from habit grown indifferent to the dangers of the woods, 
diverted himself freely at the expense of his young com- 
panion, often inquiring, at what price he rated his scalp, 
and offering to ensure it for sixpence. 

Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied. He ob- 
served, that in whatever direction they turned, the same 
ominous sounds continued to haunt them, and as Yates 
still treated his fears with the most perfect indifference, 
he determined to take his measures upon his ov/n respon- 
sibility. Gradually slackening his pace, he permitted 
Yates to advance twenty or thirty steps in front of him, 
and immediately after descending a gentle hill, he sudden- 
ly sprung aside and hid himself in a thick cluster of whor- 
tleberry bushes. Yates, who at that time was performing 
some v/oodland ditty to the full extent of his lungs, was 
too much pleased with his own voice, to attend either to 
Downing or the Indians, and was quickly out of sight. 
Scarcely had he disappearecj when Downing, to his un- 
speakable terror, beheld two savages put aside the stalks 
of a canebrake, and look out cautiously in the direction 
which Yates had taken. 

Fearful that they ha.d seen him step aside, he determined 
to fire upon them, and trust to his heels for safety, but so 
unsteady was his hand, that in raising his gun to his 
shoulder, she went off before he had taken aim. He lost 



178 WESTERiK ADVE-KTUHK, 

no time in following her example, and after having run fifty 
yards, he met Yates, who, alarmed at the report, was hasti- 
ly retracing his steps. It was not necessary to inquire 
what was the matter. The enemy were in full view, 
pressing forward with great rapidity, and " devil take the 
hindmost," was the order of the day. Yates would not 
outstrip Dow^ning, but ran by his side, although in so doing 
he risked both of their lives. The Indians were well ac- 
quainted with the country, and soon took a path that 
diverged from the one which the whites followed, at one 
point and rejoined it at another, bearing the same relation 
to it, that the string does to the bow. 

The two paths were at no point distant from each other 
more than one hundred yardsj so that Yates and Downing 
eould easily see the enemy gaining rapidly upon them. 
They reached the point of re~union first, however, and 
quickly came to a deep gully which it was necessary to 
cross, or retrace their steps. Yates cleared it without 
difficulty, but Downing being much exhausted, fell short, 
and falling with his breast against the opposite brink, re- 
bounded with violence and fell at full length on the bot 
torn. The Indians crossed the ditch a few yards below 
him, and eager for the capture of Yates, continued the 
pursuit, without appearing to notice Downing. The latter, 
who at first had given himself up for lost, quickly recover- 
ed his strength and began to walk slowly along the ditch, 
fearing to leave it lest the enemy should see him. As he 
advanced, however, the ditch became more shallow, until 
at length it ceased to protect him at all. 

Looking around cautiously, he saw one of the Indians 
returning apparently in quest of him. Unfortunately, he 
had neglected to reload his gun, while in the ditch, and as 
the Indian instantly advanced upon him, he had no re- 
source but flight. Throwing away his gun, which was 
now useless, he plied his legs manfully, in ascending a 
long ridge which stretched before him, but the Indian 
gained upon him so rapidly, that he lost all hope of es- 
cape. Coming at length to a large poplar which had been 
blown up by the roots, he ran along the body of the tree 
upon one side, while the Indian followed it upon the othei^y 



WIDOW SCRAGGS 179 

doubtless expecting to intercept him at the root. But 
here the supreme dominion of fortune was manifested. 

It happened that a large she bear was suckling her cubs 
in a bed which she had made at the root of the tree, and 
as the Indian reached that point first, she instantly sprung 
upon him, and a prodigious uproar took place. The In- 
dian yelled, and stabbed with his knife, the bear growled 
and saluted him with one of her most endearing " hugs ;" 
while Downing, fervently Vvishing her success, ran off 
through the woods, without waiting to see the event of 
the struggle. Downing reached the fort in safety, and 
found Yates reposing after a hot chace, having eluded his 
pursuers, and gained the fort two hours before him. On 
the next morning, they collected a party and returned to 
the poplar tree, but no traces either of the Indian or bear 
were to be found. They both probably escaped with their 
lives although not without injury. 

On the night of the 11th of April, 1787, the house of a 
>vidow, in Bourbon county, became the scene of an adven- 
ture, which we think deserves to be related. She occu- 
pied what is generally called a double cabin, in a lonely 
part of the county, one room of which was tenanted by 
the old lady herself, together with two grown sons, and a 
widowed daughter, at that time suckling an infant, while 
the other was occupied by two unmarried daughters from 
sixteen to twenty years of age, together with a little girl* 
not more than half grown. The hour was 11 o'clock at 
night. One of the unmarried daughters was still busily 
engaged at the loom, but the other members of the family, 
with the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest. 
Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the 
attention of the young man for an hour before any thing 
of a decided character took place. 

The cry of owls were heard in the adjoining wood, an- 
swering each other in rather an unusual manner. The 
horses, which were enclosed as usual in a pound near the 
house, were more tliari commonly excited, and by repeated 
snorting and galloping, announced the presence of some 
object of terror. The young man was often upon the 
point of awakening his brother, but was as often restrained 



180 WESTERN ADVENTURE 

by the fear of incurring ridicule and the reproach of timidi 
ty, at that time an unpardonable blemish in the character 
of a Kentuckian. At length hasty steps v/ere heard in 
the yard, and quickly afterwards, several loud knocks at 
the door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, " who 
keeps house?" in very good English. The young man, 
supposing from the language, that some benighted settlers 
were at the door, hastil}'^ arose, and was advancing to v/ith- 
draw the bar v/hicli secured it, when his mother who ha,d 
long lived upon the frontiers, and had probably detected 
the Indian tone in the demand for admission, instantly 
sprung out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them, 
declaring that they were Indians. 

She instantly awakened her other son, and the two 
young men seizing their guns, which Vv^ere ahvays charg- 
ed, prepared to repel the enemy. The Indians fmding it 
impossible to enter under their assumed characters, began 
to thunder at the door with great violence, but a single 
shot from a loop hole compelled them to shift the attack to 
some less exposed point; and, unfortunately, they discover- 
ed the door of the other cabin, which contained the three 
daughters. The rifles of the brothers could not be brought 
to bear upon this point, and by means of several rails 
taken from the yard fence, the door was forced from its 
hinges, and the three girls v/ere at the mercy of the sava- 
ges. One was instantly secured, but the eldest defended 
herself desperately with a knife which she had been using 
at the loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart; 
before she v/as tomaha,wked. 

In the mean time the little girl, who had been overlook- 
ed by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the others. 
ran out into the yard, and might have effected her escape^ 
had she taken advantage of the darkness and fled, but in- 
' stead of that the terrified little creature ran around the 
house v/ringing her hands, and crying out that her sisters 
were killed. The brothers, unable to hear her cries, with- 
out risking every thing for her rescue, rushed to the door 
and were preparing to saliy out to her assistance, when, 
their mother threw herself before them and calmly declar- 
ed that the child must be abandoned to its fate ; that the 



WIDOW SCRAGGS, 181 

sally would sacrifice the lives of all the rest withovit the 
slightest benefit to the little girl. Just then the child ut- 
tered a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans and all 
was again silent- Presentl}^ the crackling of flames was 
heardj accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, 
announcing that they had set fire to that division of the 
house which had been occupied by the daughters, and of 
which they held undisputed possession. 

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of tho 
building, an<i it became necessary to abandon it or perish 
in the flames. In the one case there was a possibility 
that some might escape; in the other, their fate would be 
equally certain and terrible. The rapid approach of the 
flames cut short their momentary suspense. The door 
was thrown open, and the old lady, supported by her eldest 
son, attempted to cross the fence at one point, while her 
daughter carrying her child in her arms, and attended by 
the younger of the brothersj ran in a different direction. 
The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little infe- 
rior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen 
awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady was 
permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the act of 
crossing, received several balls in her breast and fell dead. 
Her son, providentially, remained unhurt, and by extraor- 
dinary agility, eflfected his escape. 

The other party succeeded also in reaching the fence 
unhurt, but in the act of crossing, were vigorously assailed 
by several Indians, who throwing down their guns, rushed 
upon them with their tomahawks. The young man de- 
fended his sister gallantly, firing upon the enemy as they 
approached, and then wielding the butt of his rifle with a 
fury that drew their whole attention upon himself, and gave 
his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He 
quickly fell, however, under the tomahawks of his enemies, 
and was found at day light, scalped and mangled in a 
shocking manner. Of the whole family, consisting of 
eight persons, when the attack commenced, only three 
escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one (the 
second daughter) carried off'as a prisoner. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by daylight, 

P 



182 WESTERN ADVEKTUB 

about thirty men were assembled under the command of 
Colonel Edwards. A light snow had fallen during the 
latter part of the night, and the Indian trail could be pur- 
sued at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous 
country bordering upon Licking, and afforded evidences 
of great hurry and precipitation on the part of the fugi- 
tives. Unfortunately, a hound had been permitted to 
accompany the whites, and as the trail became fresh and 
the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying 
loudly and giving the alarm to the Indians. The conse- 
quences of this imprudence were soon displayed. The 
enemy finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving that the 
strength of the prisoner began to fail, instantly sunk their 
tomahawks in her head and left her, still warm and bleed- 
ing upon the snow. 

As the whites came up, she retained strength enough to 
wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared de- 
sirous of giving them some information, with regard to the 
enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother 
sprung from his horse and knelt by her side, endeavoring 
to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave hina 
her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired 
within two minutes after the arrival of the party. The 
pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and in twenty 
minutes the enemy was within view. They had taken pos- 
session of a steep narrow ridge and seemed desirous of 
magnifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites, as 
they ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained a steady 
yell in their most appalling tones. The pursuers, how- 
ever, were too experienced to be deceived by so common 
an artifice, and being satisfied that the number of the ene- 
my must be inferior to their own, they dismounted, tied 
their horses, and flanking out in such a manner as to en- 
©lose the enemy, ascended the ridge as rapidly as was 
consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons. 

The firing quickly commenced, and now for the first 
time they discovered that only two Indians were opposed 
to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed themselves for 
the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in delaying 
pursuit until their friends could reach the mountains One 



WILD VS'HIIE MAJV. 183 

of them was instantly shot dead, and the other was badly 
wounded, as was evident from the blood upon his blanket, 
as well as that which filled his tracks in the snow for a 
considerable distance. The pursuit was recommenced, 
and urged keenly until night, when the trail entered a 
running stream and was lost. On the following morning 
the snow had melted, and every trace of the enemy was 
obliterated. This affair must be regarded as highly honor- 
able to the skill, address, and activity of the Indians, and 
the self devotion of the rear guard, is a lively instance of 
that magnanimity of which they are at times capable, and 
which is more remarkable in them, from the extreme cau- 
tion, and tender regard for their own lives, which usually 
distinguishes their w^arriors. 

A few weeks after this melancholy affair a very remark- 
able incident occurred in the same neighborhood. One 
morning, about sunrise, a young man of wild and savage 
appearance, suddenly arose from a cluster of bushes in 
front of a cabin, and hailed the house in a barbarous dia- 
lect, which seemed neither exactly Indian nor English, 
but a collection of shreds and patches from which the 
graces of both were carefully excluded. His skin had 
evidently once been white — although now grievously tan- 
ned by constant exposure to the weather. His dress in 
every respect was that of an Indian, as were his gestures, 
tones and equipments, and his age could not be supposed 
to exceed twenty years. He talked volubly but uncouth- 
ly, placed his hand upon his breast, gestured vehemently, 
and seemed very earnestly bent upon communicating some- 
thing. He was invited to enter the cabin, and the neigh- 
bors quickly collected around him. 

He appeared involuntarily to shrink from contact with 
them; his eyes rolled rapidly around with a distrustful 
expression from one to the other, and his w^hole manner 
was that of a wild animal, just caught, and shrinking 
from the touch of its captors. As several present under- 
stood the Indian tongue, they at length gathered the fol- 
lowing circumstances, as accurately as they could be 
translated, out of a language which seemed to be an ^'om- 
nium gatherum^' of all that was mongrel, uncouth, and 



184 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

barbarous. He said that he had been taken by the In- 
dians, when a child, but could neither recollect his name, 
nor the country of his birth. That he had been adopted 
by an Indian warrior, who brought him up with his other 
sons, without making the slightest difference between 
them, and that under his father's roof, he had lived hap- 
pily until within the last month. 

A few weeks before that time, his father, accompanied 
y himself and a younger brother, had hunted for some 
ime upon the waters of the Miami, about forty miles 
from the spot where Cincinnati now stands, and after all 
their meat, skins &c. had been properly secured, the old 
man determined to gratify his children by taking them 
upon a war expedition to Kentucky. They accordingly 
built a bark canoe, in which they crossed the Ohio near 
the mouth of Licking, and having buried it, so as to se- 
cure it from the action of the sun, they advanced into the 
country and encamped at the distance of fifteen miles 
ftom the river. Here their father was alarmed by hear- 
ing an owl cry in a peculiar tone, which he declared boded 
death or captivity to themselves, if they continued their 
expedition; and announced his intention of returning 
without delay to the river. 

Both of his sons vehemently opposed this resolution, 
and at length prevailed upon the old man to disregard the 
owl's warning, and conduct them, as he had promised, 
against the frontiers of Kentucky. The party then com- 
posed themselves to sleep, but were quickly awakened by 
their father, who had again been warned in a dream that 
death awaited them in Kentucky, and again besought his 
children to release him from his promise and lose no time 
in returning home. Again they prevailed upon him to 
disregard the warning, and persevere in the march. He 
consented to gratify them, but declared he would not re- 
main a moment longer in the camp which they now occu- 
pied, and accordingly they left it immediately, and marched 
on through the night, directing their course towards Bour- 
bon county. 

In the evening, they approached a house, that which he 
had hailed, and in which he was now speaking. Sudden- 



WILD WHITE MAI\\ 185 

ly, the desire of rejoining his people occupied his raind so 
strongly as to exclude every ofner idea, and seizing the 
first favorable opportunity, he had concealed himself in 
the bushes, and neglected to reply to all the signals which 
had been concerted for the purpose of collecting their 
party when scattered. This account appeared so extra- 
ordinary, and the young man's appearance was so wild 
and suspicious, that many of the neighbors suspected him 
of treachery, and thought that he should be arrested as a 
spy. Others opposed this resolution, and gave full credit 
to his narrative. In order to satisfy themselves, however, 
they insisted upon his instantly conducting them to the 
spot where the canoe had been buried. To this the young 
man objected most vehemently, declaring that although 
he had deserted his father and brother, yet he would not 
betray them. 

These feelings were too delicate to meet with muck 
sympathy from the rude borderers who surrounded him, 
and he was given to understand that nothing short of con- 
ducting them to the point of embarcation, would be ac- 
cepted as an evidence of his sincerity. With obvious 
reluctance he at length complied. From twenty to thirty 
men were quickly assembled, mounted upon good horses, 
and under the guidance of the deserter, they moved rap- 
idly towards the mouth of Licking. On the road, the 
young man informed them that he would first conduct 
them to the spot, where they had encamped when the 
scream of the owl alarmed his father, and where an iron 
kettle had been left concealed in a hollow tree. He was 
probably induced to do this from the hope of delaying the 
pursuit so long as to afford his friends an opportunity of 
crossing the river in safety. 

But if such was his intention, no measure could have 
been more unfortunate. The whites approached the en- 
campment in deep silence, and quickly perceived two 
Indians, an old man and a boy, seated by the fire and 
busily employed in cooking some venison. The deserter 
became much agitated at the sight of them, and so ear- 
nestly implored his countrymen not to kill them, that it 
was agreed to surround the encampment, and endeavor to 



186 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

secure them as prisoners. This was accordingly attempt- 
ed, but so desperate was the resistance of the Indians, 
and so deteiinined were their efforts to escape, that the 
whites were compelled to foe upon them, and the old man 
fell mortally wounded, while the boy, by an incredible dis- 
play of address and activity, was enabled to escape. The 
deserter beheld his father fall, and throwing himself from 
his horse, he ran up to the spot where the old man lay 
bleeding but still sensible, and falling upon his body, be- 
sought his forgiveness for being the unwilling cause of his 
death, and wept bitterly. 

His father evidently recognized him, and gave him his 
hand, but almost instantly afterwards expired. The white 
men now called upon him to conduct them at a gallop to 
the spot where the canoe was buried, expecting to reach 
it before the Indian boy and intercept him. The deserter 
in vain implored them to compassionate his feelings. He 
urged that he had already sufficiently demonstrated the 
truth of his former assertions, at the expense of his 
father's life, and earnestly entreated them to permit his 
younger brother to escape. His companions, however, 
were inexorable. Nothing but the blood of the young 
Indian would satisfy them, and the deserter was again 
compelled to act as a guide. Within two hours they 
reached the designated spot. The canoe was still there 
and no track could be seen upon the sand, so that it was 
evident that their victim had not yet arrived. 

Hastily dismounting, they tied their horses and con- 
cealed themselves within close rifle shot of the canoe. 
Within ten minutes after their arrival, the Indian appeared 
in sight, walking swiftly towards them. He went straight 
to the spot where the canoe had been buried, and was in 
the act of digging it up, when he received a dozen balls 
through his body, and leaping high into the air, fell dead 
upon the sand. He was instantly scalped and buried 
where he fell, without having seen his brother, and prob- 
ably without having known the treachery by which he 
and his father had lost their lives. The deserter remained 
but a short time in Bourbon, and never regained his tran- 
^illity of mind. He shortly afterwards disappeared, but 



JOHN MERHIL. 187 

whether to seek his relations in Virginia or Pennsylvania, 
or whether, disgusted by the ferocity of the whites, he 
returned to the Indians, has never yet been known. He 
was never heard of afterwards. 

During the summer, the house of Mr John Merril, of 
Nelson county, Ky., was attacked by the Indians, and 
defended with singular address and good fortune. Merril 
was alarmed by the barking of a dog about midnight, and 
upon opening the door in order to ascertain the cause of 
the disturbance, he received the fire of six or seven In- 
dians, by which his arm and thigh were both broken. He 
instantly sunk upon the floor and called upon his wife to 
close the door. This had scarcely been done, when it 
was violently assailed by the tomahawks of the enemy, 
and a large breach soon effected. Mrs. Merril, however, 
being a perfect Amazon both in strength and courage, 
guarded it with an axe, and successively killed or badly 
wounded four of the enemy as they attempted to force 
their way into the cabin. 

The Indians then ascended the roof and attempted to 
enter by way of the chimney, but here again they were 
met by the same determined enemy. Mrs. Merril seized 
the only feather bed, which the cabin afforded, and hastily 
ripping it open, poured its contents upon the fire. A furi- 
ous blaze and stifling smoke instantly ascended the chim- 
ney, and brought down two of the enemy, who lay for a 
few moments at the mercy of the lady. Seizing the axe, 
she quickly despatched them, and was instantly afterwards 
summoned to the door, where the only remaining savage 
now appeared endeavoring to effect an entrance, while 
Mrs. Merril was engaged at the chimney. He soon re- 
ceived a gash in the cheek, which compelled him, with a 
loud yell, to relinquish his purpose, and return hastily to 
Chillicothe, where, from the report of a prisoner, he gave 
an exaggerated account of the fierceness, strength, and 
courage of the "long knife squaw T' 



im WESTERN ABVENTURE, 



CHAPTER IX. 



In the month of April, 1792,. a number of horses be 
longing to Captain Luther Calvin^ of Mason county^ were 
stolen by the Indians; and, as usual, a strong party volun- 
teered to go in pursuit of the enemy and recover the 
property. The party consisted of thirty seven men, com- 
manded by Captains Calvin and KrjvTaN, and was com- 
posed chiefly of young farmers, most of whom had never 
yet met an enemy. The present Captain Charles Ward, 
Deputy Sheriff of Mason county, was one of the volun- 
teers, and was at that time a mere lad, totally unacquainted 
with Indian warfare. They rendezvoused upon the Ken 
tucky shore, immediately opposite Ripley, and crossing 
the river in a small ferry boat, pursued the trail for five or 
six miles with great energy. Here, however, a specimen 
of the usual caprice and uncertainty attending the motions 
of militia y was given. 

One of the party, whose voice bad been loud and resa 
lute while on the Kentucky shore, all at once managed to 
discover that the enterprise was rash, ill advised, and it 
prosecuted, would certainly prove disastrous. A keen 
debate ensued, in which young Spencer Calvin, then a lad 
of eighteen, openly accused the gentleman alluded to of 
cowardice, and even threatened to take the measure of his 
shoulders with a ramrod, on the spot. By the prompt in- 
terference of Kenton and the elder Calvin, the young 
man's wrath v/as appeased for the time, and all those who 
preferred safety to honor, were invited instantly to return. 
The permission was promptly accepted, and no less than 
fifteen men, headed by the recreant already mentioned, 
turned their horses' heads and recrossed the river. The 
remainder, consisting chiefly of experienced warriors^ con- 
tinued the pursuit. 

The trail led them down on the Miami, and about noon, 
on the second day, they heard a bell in front, apparently 
from a horse grazing. Cautiously approaching it, they 
quickly beheld a solitary Indian, mounted on horseback, 



WAKD, CALVIJN, AND KENTON. 189 

and leisurely advancing towards them. A few ijf their 
best marksmen fired upon him and brought him to the 
ground. After a short consultation, it was then deter- 
mined to follow his back trail, and ascertain whether there 
were more in the neighborhood. A small, active, resolute 
woodsman, named Mclntyre, accompanied by three oth- 
ers, was pushed on in advance, in order to give them early 
notice of the enemy's appearance, while the main body 
followed at a more leisurely pace. Within an hour, Mc- 
lntyre returned, and reported that they were then within 
a short distance of a large party of Indians, supposed to 
be greatly superior to their own. That they were en- 
camped in a bottom upon the borders of a creek, and were 
amusing themselves, apparently awaiting the arrival of the 
Indian whom they had just killed, as they would occasion- 
ally halloo loudly, and then laugh immoderately, suppos- 
ing, probably, that their comrade had lost his way. 

This intelligence fell like a shower bath upon the spirits 
of the party, who, thinking it more prudent to put a 
greater interval between themselves and the enemy, set 
spurs to their horses, and galloped back in the direction 
from which they had come. Such was the panic, that one 
of the footmen, a huge hulking fellow, six feet high, in 
his zeal for his own safety, sprung up behind Captain Cal- 
vin, (who was then mounted upon Captain Ward's horse, 
the Captain having dismounted in order to accommodate 
him,) and nothing short of a threat to blow his brains out, 
could induce him to dismount. In this orderly manner, 
they scampered through the woods for several miles, when, 
in obedience to the orders of Kenton and Calvin, they 
halted, and prepared for resistance in case (as was proba- 
ble,) the enemy had discovered them, and were engaged 
in the pursuit. Kenton and Calvin were engaged apart 
in earnest consultation. It was proposed that a number 
of saplings should be cut down and a temporary breast- 
work erected, and while the propriety of these measures 
was under discussion, the men were left to themselves. 

Captain Ward, as we have already observed, was then 
very young, and perfectly raw. He had been in the habit 
of looking up to one man as a perfect Hector, having al- 



190 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ways heard him represented in his own neighborhood as a 
man of redoubted courage, and a perfect Anthropophagus 
among the Indians. When they halted, therefore, he 
naturally looked around for his friend, hoping to read 
safety, courage and assurance of success in that counte- 
nance, usually so ruddy and confident. But, alas ! the 
gallant warrior was wofuUy chop-fallen. There had, 
generally, been a ruddy tinge upon the tip of his nose, 
which some ascribed to the effervescence of a fiery valor, 
while others, more maliciously inclined, attributed it to 
the fumes of brandy. Even this burning beacon had 
been quenched, and had assumed a livid ashy hue, still 
deeper if possible than that of his lips. Captain Ward 
thinking that the danger must be appalling, which could 
damp the ardor of a man like him, instantly became 
grievously frightened himself, and the contagion seemed 
spreading rapidly, when Kenton and Calvin rejoined them, 
and speaking in a cheerful, confident tone, completely re- 
animated their spirits. 

Finding themselves not pursued by the enemy, as they 
had expected, it was determined, that they should remain 
in their present position until night, when a rapid attack 
was to be made in two divisions, upon the Indian camp, 
under the impression that the darkness of the night, and 
the surprise of the enemy, might give them an advantage, 
which they could scarcely hope for in daylight. Accor- 
dingly, every thing remaining quiet at dusk, they again 
mounted and advanced rapidly, but in profound silence, 
upon the Indian camp. It was ascertained that the horses 
which the enemy had stolen were grazing in a rich bot- 
tom below their camp. As they were advancing to the 
attack, therefore, Calvin detached his son with several 
halters, which he had borrowed from the men, to regain 
their own horses, and be prepared to carry them off in 
case the enemy should overpower them. The attack was 
then made in two divisions. 

Calvin conducted the upper and Kenton the lower 
party. The wood was thick, but the moon shone out 
dearly, and enabled them to distinguish objects with siffi- 
©ient precision. Calvin's party came first in contact with 



WARD, CALVIN, AND KENTON. 191 

the enemy. They had advanced within thirty yards of a 
large fire in front of a number of tents, without having 
seen a single Indian, when a dog which had been watching 
them for several minutes, sprung forward to meet them, 
baying loudly. Presently an Indian appeared approaching 
cautiously towards them, and occasionally speaking to the 
dog in the Indian tongue. This sight was too tempting to 
be borne, and Calvin heard the tick of a dozen rifles in 
rapid succession, as his party cocked them in order to fire. 
The Indian was too close to permit him to speak, but 
turning to his men he earnestly waved his hand as a 
warning to be quiet. Then cautiously raising his own rifle, 
he fired with a steady aim, just as the Indian had reached 
the fire, and stood fairly exposed to its light. 

The report of the rifle instantly broke the stillness of 
the night, and their ears were soon deafened by the yelk 
of the enemy. The Indian at whom Calvin had fired, fell 
forward into the burning pile of faggots, and by his strug- 
gling to extricate himself, scattered the brands so much, 
as almost to extinguish the light. Several dusky forms, 
glanced rapidly before them for a moment, which drew a 
volly from his men, but with what effect could not be as- 
certained. Calvin, having discharged his piece, turned 
so rapidly as to strike the end of his ramrod against a 
tree behind him, and drive it into its sheath with such 
violence, that he was unable to extricate it for several 
minutes, and finally fractured two of his teeth in the 
dSbrt. 

A heavy fire now commenced from the Indian camp, 
which was returned with equal spirit by the whites, but 
without much effect on either side. Trees were barked 
very plentifully, dogs bayed, the Indians yelled, the whites 
shouted, the squaws screamed, and a prodigious uproar 
was maintained for about fifteen minutes, when it was 
reported to Calvin that Kenton's party had been overpow- 
ered, and was in full retreat. It was not necessary to 
give orders for a similar movement. No sooner had the 
intelligence been received, than the Kentuckians of the 
upper division broke their ranks and every man attempted 
to save himself as he best could. They soon overtook 



19a WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the lower division, and a hot scramble took place for hon- 
es. One called upon another to wait for him until he 
could catch his horse, which had broken his bridle^ but no 
attention was paid to the request. Some fled upon their 
own horses, others mounted those of their friends. "First 
come, first served,'' seemed to be the order of the night, 
and a sad confusion of property took place, in consequence 
of which, to their great terror, a few were compelled to 
return on foot. The flight was originally caused by the 
panic of an individual. As the lower division moved up 
to the attack, most of the men appeared to advance with 
alacrity. 

Captain Ward, however, happened to be stationed next 
to Mclntyre, whom we have already had occasion to men- 
tion as a practised woodsman and peculiarly expert 
marksman. Heretofore, he had always been foremost in 
every danger, and had become celebrated for the address, 
activity, and boldness with which he had acquitted himself. 
As they were ascending the gentle acclivity upon v/hich 
the Indian camp stood, however, he appeared much dejec- 
ted, and spoke despondingly of their enterprise. He de- 
clared that it had been revealed to him in a dream, on the 
preceding night, that their efforts would be vain, and 
that he himself was destined to perish. That he was de- 
termined to fight, as long as any man of the party stood 
his ground, but if the w^hites were wise, they would in- 
stantly abandon the attempt upon the enemy, and recross 
the Ohio, as rapidly as possible. 

These observations made but little impression upon 
Ward, but seemed to take deep root in the mind of the 
gentleman whose pale face had alarmed the company at 
tjhe breastwork. The action quickly commenced, and at 
the first fire from the Indians, Barre, a young Kentuck- 
ian, was shot by 's side. This circumstance com- 
pleted the overthrow of his courage, which had declined 
visibly since the first encounter in the morning^ and eleva- 
ting his voice to its shrillest notes, he shouted aloud, "Boys! 
it wont do for us to be here; Barre is killed, and the 
Indians are crossing the creek!" Bonaparte has said, that 
there is a critical period in every battle, when the bravest 



WARD, CALVIIV AJND KEISTON. I93 

men will eagerly sefee an excuse to run away. The re- 
mark is doubly true with regard to militia. 

No sooner had this speech been uttered by one who 
kad never yet been charged with cowardice, than the rout 
instantly took place, and all order was disregarded. Fortu- 
nately, the enemy were equally frightened, and probably 
would have fled themselves, had the whites given them 
time. No pursuit took place for several hours, nor did 
they then pursue the trail of the main body of fugi 
lives. But it unfortunately happened that Mclntyre, in- 
stead of accompanying the rest, turned off from the main 
route, and returned to the breastwork where some flour 
and venison had been left. The Indians quickly became 
aware of the circumstance, and following with rapidity, 
overtook, tomahawked, and scalped him, while engaged 
in preparing breakfast on the following morning. Thus 
was his dream verified. The prediction in this case, as 
in many others, probably produced its own accomplishment 
by confounding his mind, and depriving him of his ordina- 
ry alertness and intelligence. He certainly provoked 
his fate, by his own extraordinary rashness. 

It is somewhat remarkable, that a brother of Captain 
Ward's was in the Indian camp at the moment when it 
was attacked. He had been taken by the Indians in 
1758, being at that time only three years old, had been 
adopted as a member of the Shawnee tribe, and had mar- 
ried an Indian woman by whom he had several children, 
all of whom, together with their mother, were then in 
camp. Captain Ward has informed the writer of this nar- 
rative, that, a few seconds before the firing began, while 
he stood within rifle shot of the encampment, an Indian 
girl apparently fifteen years of age attracted his attention. 
She stood for an instant in an attitude of alarm, in front 
of one of the tents, and gazed intently upon the spot 
where he then stood. Not immediately perceiving that 
it was a female, he raised his gun, and was upon the 
point of firing, when her open bosom announced her gex, 
and her peculiarly light complexion caused him to doubt 
for a moment whether she could be an Indian by birth. 
He afterwards ascertained that she was his brother's child. 



104 WESTERN AlWENTURE. 

It appears still more remarkable, that exactly one year 
afterwards, John Ward, the adopted Indian, should have 
been opposed to another one of his brothers. Captain 
James Ward, of Mason, in a night skirmish somewhat 
resembling that which we have just detailed. Captain 
James Ward, together with Kenton, Baker and about thirty 
others, while engaged in pursuit of some stolen horses, 
fell upon a fresh trail of Indians, that crossed the road 
which they were then pursuing. Instantly abandoning 
their former object, they followed the fresh trail with great 
eagerness, and a short time after dark arrived at an en- 
campment. Having carefully reconnoitered it, they de- 
termined to remain quiet until daylight, and then fall upon 
the enemy as before, in two divisions, one to be com- 
manded by Kenton and the other by Baker. Every thing 
remained quiet until four o'clock in the morning, when 
Baker moved at the head of his party, in order to take the 
appointed position, (which was very advantageous, and in 
conjunction with Kenton's, completely surrounded the 
enemy) while Kenton remained stationary, awaiting the 
signal of attack. 

By some mistake, Baker moved in a false direction, and 
to the surprise of both parties, instead of enclosing the 
Indian camp, he fell directly upon it. A heavy firing, 
and the usual yelling, quickly announced the fact to Ken- 
ton, who moved hastily up to the assistance of his friends. 
It was still perfectly dark and the firing was of course at 
random. Baker, in whose fiery character, courage pre- 
dominated over every thing else, lost all patience at the 
restraint under which they lay, and urged strenuously, 
that they should rush upon the enemy, and decide the 
affair at once with the tomahawk; but Kenton, whom 
repeated misfortunes had rendered extremely cautious^ 
opposed it so vehemently, that it was not done. 

One of their men had fallen, and they could hear on© 
of the enemy, apparently not more than thirty yards from 
them, groan deeply, and occasionally converse with his 
companions in the Indian tongue. The wounded man was 
the unfortunate John Ward, whose hard fate it was, to 
fight against the whit«i« in a battle in which his own father 



MAY, JOHJNSTON. AND SKYLEy. 195 

was killed, to encounter two of his brothers in the field, 
and finally to fall mortally wounded in a night skirmish, 
when his brother was opposed to him, and was within 
hearing of his groans. His father perished in the long 
battle at the " Point," as it was called, near the mouth of 
the Kenawha. The whole force of the Shawnees was 
assembled at that point, and John Ward was then nineteen 
years of age, so that there can be but little doubt of his 
having been present. 



CHAPTER X. 

Mr. John May, a gentleman of Virginia, had, at an early 
period, been appointed surveyor of the Kentucky lands, 
and had become so extensively involved in business, as to 
require the aid of a clerk. In 1789, he employed Mr. 
Charles Johnston, a young man scarcely twenty years 
of age, in that capacity. Johnston accompanied his em- 
ployer to Kentucky in the summer of 1789, and returned 
to Virginia in the autumn of the same year, without any 
adventure worthy of notice; and in the month of February, 
1790, it became necessary for them to return to Kentucky, 
in order to complete the business which had been left un- 
finished on the former trip. Heretofore, they had travel- 
led by land, but on the present occasion. May determined 
to descend the Great Kenawha and Ohio by water. They, 
accordingly, travelled by the usual route to Green Briar 
court house, where the town of Lewisburgh has since been 
built, and from thence crossed the wilderness which lay 
between that point and the Great Kenawha. 

After suffering much from the weather, which was in- 
tensely cold, they at length reached Kelly's station upon 
the Kenawha, from which point May proposed to embark. 
Having purchased a boat, such as was then used for the 
navigation of the western waters, they embarked in com- 
pany with Mr. Jacob Skyles, a gentleman of Virginia, who 
had at that time a stock of dry goods intended for Lexing- 



196 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ton, and without any accident, in the course of a few days 
they arrived at Point Pleasant, Here there was an ac- 
cession to their number of three persons, a man named 
Flinn and two sisters of the name of Fleming. Flinn was 
a hardy borderer, accustomed from his youth to all the 
dangers of the frontiers, and the two Miss Flemings were 
women of low station and doubtful character. They were all 
natives of Pittsburgh, and were on their way to Kentucky. 

During their short stay at Point Pleasant, they learned 
that roving bands of Indians were constantly hovering 
upon either bank of the Ohio, and were in the habit of de- 
coying boats ashore under various pretences, and murder- 
ing or taking captives, all who were on board; so that, 
upon leaving Point Pleasant, they determined that no con- 
sideration should induce them to approach either shore, 
but steeling their hearts against every entreaty, that they 
would resolutely keep the middle of the current, and leave 
distressed individuals to shift for themselves. How firmly 
this resolution was maintained the sequel will show. The 
spring freshet was in its height at the time of their em- 
barkation, and their boat was wafted rapidly down the 
stream. There was no occasion to use the side oars, and 
it was only necessary for one individual at a time to watch 
throughout the night, at the steering oar, in order to keep 
the boat in the current. So long as this could be done, 
they entertained no dread of any number of Indians on 
either shore, as boarding had hitherto formed no part of 
their plans, and was supposed to be impracticable, so long 
as arms were on board of the boat. 

On the morning of the 20th of March, when near the 
junction of the Scioto, they were awakened at daylight by 
Flinn, whose turn it was to watch, and informed that dan- 
ger was at hand. All instantly sprung to their feet, and 
hastened upon deck without removing their nightcaps or 
completing their dress. The cause of Flinn's alarm was 
quickly evident. Far down the river a smoke was seen, 
ascending in thick wreaths above the trees, and floating 
in thinner masses over the bed of the river. All in- 
stantly perceived that it could only proceed from a 
large fire; and who was there to kindle a fire in the wrl- 



MAY, JOHNSTON. AND SKYLES. 197 

derness whieh surrounded them? No one doubted that 
Indians were in front, and the only question to be decided 
was, upon which shore they lay, for the winding of the 
river, and their distance from the smoke, rendered it im- 
possible at first to ascertain this point. As the boat drift- 
ed on, however, it became evident that the fire was upon 
the Ohio shore, and it was instantly determined to put over 
to the opposite side of the river. Before this could be 
done, however, two white men ran down upon the beach, 
and clasping their hands in the most earnest manner, im- 
plored the crew to take them on board. 

They declared that they had been taken by a party of 
Indians in Kennedy's bottom, a few days before; had 
been conducted across the Ohio, and had just effected their 
escape. They added, that the enemy w^as in close pur- 
suit of them, and that their death was certain, unless ad- 
mitted on board. Resolute in their purpose, on no account 
to leave the middle of the stream, and strongly suspecting 
the suppliants of treachery, the party paid no attention to 
their entreaties, but steadily pursued their course dow^n 
the river, and were soon considerably ahead of them. 
The two white men ran down the bank, in a line parallel 
with the course of the boat, and their entreaties were 
changed into the most piercing cries and lamentations 
upon perceiving the obstinacy with which their request 
was disregarded. 

Instantly the obduracy of the crew began to relax. 
Flinn and the two females, accustomed from their youth 
to undervalue danger from the Indians, earnestly insisted 
upon going ashore, and relieving the white men, and even 
the incredulity of May began to yield to the persevering 
importunity of the suppliants. A parley took plaee. 
May called to them from the deck of the boat where he 
stood in his nightcap and drawers, and demanded the 
cause of the large fire the smoke of which had caused so 
much alarm. The white men positively denied that there 
was any fire near them. This falsehood was so palpable, 
that May's former suspicions returned with additional 
force, and he positively insisted upon continuing their 
course without paying the slightest attention to the re- 

Q 



198 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

quest of the men. This resolution was firn^ly secoiKled 
by Johnston and SkyleSy and as vehemently opposed by 
Flinn and the Miss FlemingSj foi^ contrary to all estab- 
lished rules of policy, the females were allowed an equal 
vote with the males on board of the boat. 

Flinn urged that the men gave evoiy evidence of real 
distress which could be required, and recounted too many 
particular circumstances attending their capture and es- 
cape, to give color to the suspicion that their story was 
invented for the occasion, and added, that it would be a 
burning- shame to them and theii^ for ever^ if they should 
permit two countrymen to fall a sacrifke to the savages^ 
when so flight a risk on their part would suffice to re- 
lieve them. He acknowledg^ed that tbey Imd lied in rela- 
tion to the fire, but declared himself satisfied that it was 
only because they were fearful of acknowledging the 
truth, lest the crew should suspect that Indians were con- 
cealed in the vicinity. The controversy became warm^ 
and during its progress, the boat drifted so far below the 
men, that they appeared to relinquish their pursuit in 
despair* 

At this tinie, Flinn made a second proposal, which, ac- 
cording to his method of reasoning, could be carried into 
effect, without the slightest risk to any one but himself. 
They were now more than a mile below the pursuers* 
He proposed that May should only touch the hostile shore 
long enough to permit him to jump out. That it was 
impossible for Indians, (even admitting that they were at 
hand,) to arrive in time to arrest the boat, and even should 
t\nj appear, they could immediately put off from shore 
and abandon him to his fate. That he was confident of 
being able to outrun the red devils, if they saw him first, 
and was equally confident of being able to see them as 
fioon as they could see him. May remonstrated upon so 
unnecessary an exposure; but Flinn was inflexible, and 
'n an evil hour the boat was directed to the shore. 

They quickly discovered, what ought to have been 
Known before, that they could not float as swiftly after 
leaving the current as while borne along by it, and they 
were nearly double the time in making the shore, that 



MAY, JOHNSTON AND SKYLES. 19Q 

they had calculated upon. When within reach Flinn leap 
ed fearlessly upon the hostile bank, and the boat grated 
upon the sand. At that moment, five or six savages ran 
up out of breath, from the adjoining wood, and instantly 
seizing Flinn, began to fire upon the boat's crew. John- 
ston and Skyles sprung to their arms, in order to return 
the fire, while May, seizing an oar, attempted to regain 
the current. Fresh Indians arrived, however, in such 
rapid succession, that the beach was quickly crowded by 
them, and May called out to his companions to cease 
firing and come to the oars. This was instantly done, 
biit it was too late. 

The river, as we have already observed, was very high, 
and their clumsy and unwieldy boat had become entang- 
led in the boughs of the trees which hung over the water, 
so that after the most desperate efforts to get her off*, they 
were compelled to relinquish the attempt in despair. 
During the whole of this time the Indians were pouring a 
heavy fire into the boat, at a distance not exceeding ten 
paces. Their horses, of which they had a great number 
on board, had broken their halters, and mad with terror 
were plunging so furiously as to expose them to a danger 
scarcely less dreadful than that which menaced them from 
shore. In addition to this, none of them had ever beheld 
a hostile Indian before, (with the exception of May,) and 
the furious gestures and appalling yells of the enemy, 
struck a terror to their hearts which had almost deprived 
them of their faculties. 

Seeing it impossible to extricate themselves, they all 
lay down upon their faces, in such parts of the boat, as 
would best protect them from the horses, and awaited in 
passive helplessness, the approach of the conquerors. The 
enemy, however, still declined boarding, and contented 
themselves with pouring in an incessant fire, by which all, 
the horses were killed, and which at length began to 
grow fatal to the crew. On^ of the f^n^al^ received a 
ball in her mouth which had passed immediately over 
Johnston's head, and alniost instantly ^x^pked. Skyles, 
immediately afterwe^rds, was severely v*:ouwied ia both, 
shoulders, the ball striking the right shouMer blade, and 



200 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ranging transversely along his back. The fire seemed 
to grow hotter every moment, when, at length May arose 
and waved his nightcap above his head as a signal of sur- 
render. He instantly received a ball in the middle of the 
forehead and fell perfectly dead by the side of Johnson, 
covering him with his blood. 

Now, at last, the enemy ventured to board. Throwing 
themselves into the water, with their tomahawks in their 
hands, a dozen or twenty swam to the boat, and began to 
climb the sides. Johnston stood ready to do the honors 
of the boat, and presenting his band to each Indian in 
succession, he helped them over the gide to the number 
of twenty. Nothing could appear more cordial than the 
meeting. Each Indian shook him by the hand, with the 
usual salutation of " How de do," in passable English, 
while Johnston encountered every visitor with an affec- 
tionate squeeze, and a forced smile, in which terror strug- 
gled with civility. The Indians then passed on to Skyles 
and the surviving Miss Fleming, where the demonstra- 
tions of mutual joy were not quite so lively. Skyles was 
writhing under a painful wound, and the girl was sitting 
by the dead body of her sister. 

Having shaken hands with all of their captives, the In- 
dians proceeded to scalp the dead, which was done with 
great coolness, and the reeking scalps were stretched and 
prepared upon hoops for the usual process of drying, im- 
mediately before the eyes of the survivors. The boat 
was then drawn ashore, and its contents examined with 
great greediness. Poor Skyles, in addition to the pain of 
his wounds, was compelled to witness the total destruction 
of his property, by the hands of these greedy spoilers, 
who tossed his silks, cambric, and broadcloth into the dirt, 
with the most reckless indifference. At length they stum- 
bled upon a keg of whiskey. The prize was eagerly 
seized, and every thing else abandoned. The Indian who 
had found it, instantly carried it ashore and was followed 
by the rest with tumultuous delight. A large fire nearly 
fifty feet long was quickly kmdled, and victors and 
vanquished indiscriminately huddled around it. 

As yet no attempt had been made to strip the prison- 



MAY, JOHNSTON, AND SR/LES. 201 

ers, but unfortunately, Johnston was handsomely dressed 
m a broadcloth surtout, red vest, fine ruffled shirt, and a 
pair of new boots. The Indians began to eye him atten- 
tively, and at length one of them, whose name he after- 
wards learned was Chickatommo, a Shawnee chief, came 
up to him, and gave the skirt of his coat two or three hard 
pulls, accompanied by several gestures which were not to 
be mistaken. Johnston instantly stripped off his coat, 
and very politely handed it to him. His red waistcoat was 
now exposed to full view and attracted great attention. 
Chickatommo instantly exclaimed, "Hugh! you big cap- 
patain !" Johnston hastily assured him that he was mista- 
ken, that he was no officer, nor had any connection with 
military affairs whatever. The Indian then drew himself 
up, pointed with his finger to his breast, and exclaimed, 
«Me cappatain! all dese," pointing to his men, "my so- 
gers !" The red waistcoat accompanied the surtout, and 
Johnston quickly stood shivering in his shirt and panta- 
loons. 

An old Indian then came up to him, and placing one 
hand upon his own shirt, (a greasy, filthy garment, which 
had not, probably, been washed for six months,) and the 
other upon Johnston's ruffles, cried out in English, " Swap ! 
swap!" at the same time, giving the ruffles a gentle pull 
with his dirty fingers. Johnston, conquering his disgust 
at the proposal, was about to comply, and had drawn his 
shirt over his head, when it was violently pulled back by 
another Indian, whose name he afterwards learned, was 
Tom Lewis. His new ally then reproached the other In- 
dian severely for wishing to take the shirt from a prison- 
er's back in such cold weather, and instantly afterwards 
threw his own blanket over Johnston's shoulders. The 
action was accompanied by a look so full of compassion 
and kindness, that Johnston, who had expected far differ- 
ent treatment, was perfectly astonished. He now saw 
that native kindness of heart and generosity of feeling, 
was by no means rare, even among savages. 

The two white men who had decoyed them ashore, and 
•whose names were Divine and Thomas, now appeared, 
and took their seats by the side of the captives. Sensi- 



202 WESTERN ADVENXaRE. 

ble of the reproach to which they had exposed themselves^ 
they hastened to offer an excuse for their conduct. They 
declared that they really had been taken in Kennedy's 
bottom a few days before, and that the Indians had com- 
pelled them, by threats of instant death in case of refusal, 
to act as they had done. They concluded by some com- 
mon place expressions of regret for the calamity which 
they had occasioned, and declared that their own misery 
was aggravated at beholding that of tlieir countrymen! 
In short, words were cheap with them, and they showered 
them out in profusion. But Johnston and Skyles' suffe^• 
ings had been and still were too severe, to permit their re- 
sentment to be appeased by such light atonement. 

Their suspicions of the existence of wilful and malig- 
nant treachery on the part of the white men, (at least one 
df them,) were confirmed by the report of a negro, who 
quickly made his appearance, and who, as it appeared, had 
been taken in Kentucky a few days before. He declared 
that Thomas had been extremely averse to having any 
share in the treachery, but had been overruled by Divine, 
who alone had planned, and was most active in the execu- 
tion of the project, having received a promise from the 
Indians, that, in case of success, his own liberty should 
be restored to him. This report has been amply con- 
firmed by subsequent testimony. Mr. Thomas is now 
living near Maysville, and has always sustained an excel- 
lent reputation. 

In a few minutes, six squaws, most of them very old, 
together with two white children, a girl and a boy, came 
down to the fire and seated themselves. The children 
had lately been taken from Kentucky. Skyles' wound 
now became excessively painful, and Flinn, who, in the 
course of his adventurous life, had picked up some knowl- 
edge of surgery, was permitted to examine it. He sooa 
found it necessary to make an incision, which was done 
very neatly with a razor. An old squaw then washed 
the wound, and having caught the bloody water in a tia 
cup, presented it to Skyles, and requested him to drink it, 
assuring him that it would greatly accelerate the cure. 
He thought it most prudent to comply. 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 20S 

During the whole of this time, the Indians remained 
silently smoking or lounging around the fire. No senti- 
nels were posted in order to prevent a surprise, but each 
man's gun stood immediately behind him, with the breech 
resting upon the ground, and the barrel supported against 
a small pole, placed horizontally upon two forks. Upon 
the slightest alarm, every man could have laid his hand 
upon his own gun. Their captors were composed of small 
detachments from several tribes. Much the greater por- 
tion belonged to the Shawnees, but there were several 
Delawares, Wyandotts, and a few wandering Cherokees, 
After smoking, they proceeded to the division of their 
prisoners. Flinn was given to a Shawnee warrior; Skylea 
to an old crabbed, ferocious Indian of the same tribe, 
whose temper was sufficiently expressed in his counte- 
nance; while Johnston was assigned to a young Shawnee 
chief, whom he represents as possessed of a disposition which 
would have done him honor in any age or in any nation* 

His name was Messhawa^ and he had just reached the 
age of manhood His person was tall and expressive 
rather of action than strength ; his air was noble, and his 
countenance mild, open, and peculiarly prepossessing. He 
evidently possessed great influence among those of his own 
tribe, which as the sequel will show, he exerted with great 
activity on the side of humanity. The surviving Miss 
Fleming was given to the Cherokees, while the Wyan- 
dotts and the Delawares were allowed no share in the dis- 
tribution. No dissatisfaction, however, was expressed. 
The division had been proclaimed by an old chief in a loud 
voice, and a brief guttural monosyllable announced their 
concun-ence. After the distribution of their captives, 
Flinn, Divine, and Thomas, were ordered to prepare four 
additional oars, for the boat v/hich they had taken, as they 
had determined to man it, and assail such other boats as 
should be encountered during their stay on the Ohio. 
These and several other preparations occupied the rest of 
the day. 

On the next morning, the Indians arose early and pre* 
pared for an encounter, expecting, as usual, that boats 
would be passing. They dressed their scalp tufts, and 



204 WESTERN AftVENTl RE 

painted their faces in the most approved manner, before a 
pocket glass which each carried witii him, grinuioing and 
frowning in order to drill their features to the expression 
of the most terrific passions. About ten o^'clock, a canoe, 
containing six men, was scyn, slowly and laboriously as- 
cending the river on the Kentucky shore. All the prison- 
ers were instantly ordered to descend the bank to the wa- 
ter's edge and decoy the canoe within reach of the Indian 
guns. Johnston, with whatcrer reluctance, was compelled 
to accompany the rest. Divine on this, as on the ibrmer 
occasion, was peculiarly active and ingenious in strata- 
gems. He invented a lamentable story of their canoe 
having been overset and of their starving condition, desti- 
tute as tliey were o{ either guns or axes. 

It was with agony that Johnston beheld the canoe put 
oft' from the Kentucky shore, and move rapidly towards 
them, struggling with tlie powerful current, which bore 
them so far below them that they could not distinguish the 
repeated signs which Johnston made, warning them to 
keep oft". The Indians, perceiving how far the canoe was 
driven below them, ran rapidly down the river, under cover 
of the woods, and concealed themselves among the willows, 
which grew in thick clusters upon the bank. The un 
suspecting canoe-men soon drew near, and when within 
sixty yards, received a heavy fire, which killed every man 
on board. Some fell into the river, and overset the ca- 
noe, which drit\ed rapidly down the current, as did the 
bodies of the slain. The Indians sprung into the water, 
and dragging them ashore, tomahawked two of them, who 
gave some signs of life, and scalped the whole. 

Scarcely had this been done, when a more splendid 
booty appeared in view. It happened that Captain Tho- 
mas Marshall, of the Virginia artillery, in company with 
several other gentlemen, was descending the Ohio, hav 
ing embarked only one day later than May. They had 
three boats, weakly manned, but heavily laden with horses 
and dry goods, intended for Lexington. About twelve 
o-clock on the second day of Johnston's captivity, the little 
flotilla appeared about a mile above the point where the 
Indians stood. Instantlvall was bustle and activity, T\\e 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 205 

additional oars were fixed to the boat, the savages instant- 
ly sprung on board, and the prisoners were compelled to 
station themselves at the oars, and were threatened with 
instant death unless they used their utmost exertions to 
bring them along side of the enemy. The three boats 
came down very rapidly, and were soon immediately op- 
posite their enemy's. The Indians opened a heavy fire 
upon them, and stimulated their rowers to their utmost 
efforts. 

The boats became quickly aware of their danger, and 
a warm contest of skill and strength took place. There 
was an interval of one hundred yards between each of 
the three boats in view. The hindmost was for a tirate 
in great danger. Having but one pair of oars, and being 
weakly manned, she was unable to compete with the In* 
dian boat, which greatly outnumbered her both in oars 
and men. The Indians quickly came within rifle shot, 
and swept the deck with an incessant fire, which rendered 
it extremely dangerous for any of the crew to shew them* 
selves. Captain Marshall was on board of the hindmost 
boat, and maintained his position at the steering oar in 
defiance of the shower of balls which flew around him. 
He stood in his shirt sleeves with a red silk handkerchief 
bound around his head, which afforded a fair mark to the 
enemy, and steered the boat with equal steadiness and 
ukill, while the crew below relieved each other at the oars. 

The enemy lost ground from two circumstances. In 
(heir eagerness to overtake the whites, they left the cup- 
I'ent, and attempted to cut across the river from point to 
point, in order to shorten the distance. In doing so, how- 
ever, they lost the force of the current, and quickly found 
themselves dropping astern. In addition to this, the 
whites conducted themselves with equal coolness and dex- 
terity. The second boat waited for the hindmost, and re- 
ceived her crew on board, abandoning the goods and hop* 
ses, without scruple, to the enemy. Being now more 
strongly manned, she shot rapidly ahead, and quickly ov- 
ertook the foremost boat, which, in like manner, received 
her crew on board, abandoning the cargo ae before, and 
having six pair of oars, and being powerfully manned, sb# 



205 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

was soon beyond the reach of the enemy's shot. The 
diase lasted more than an hour. For the first half hour, 
the fate of the foremost boat hung in mouniful suspense, 
and Johnston, with agony, looked forward to the probabil- 
ity of its capture. The prisoners were compelled to labor 
hard at the oars, but they took care never to pull together, 
and by every means in their power, endeavored to favor 
the escape of their friends. 

At length, the Indians abandoned toe pursuit, and turn- 
ed their whole attention to the boats whidn had beeu 
disserted. The booty surpassed their most sanguine ex 
pectations. Several fine horses were on board, and flour, 
sugar, and chocolate in profusion. Another Keg of whis 
ky was found, and excited the same immoderate j^y as a 
first. It was unanimously determined to regale them 
selves in a regular feast, and instant preparations werr 
made to carry their resolution into effect. A large kettle 
of chocolate and sugar, of which the sugar formed the 
greater part, was set upon the fire, which an old squaw 
stirred with a dirty stick. Johnston was promoted on the 
spot to the rank of cook, and received orders to bake a 
number of flour cakes in the fire. A deer skin, which had 
served for a saddle blanket, and was most disgustingly 
stained by having been applied to a horse's sore back, 
was given him as a tray, and being repeatedly ordered tc 
«' make haste,'' he entered upon his new ofRcc with great 
zeal. 

By mixing a large portion of sugar with some dump- 
lings, which he boiled in cliocolate, he so delighted the 
palates of the Indians, that they were enthusiastic in their 
praises, and announced their intention of keeping him in 
his present capacity as long as he remained with them. 
The two kegs, which had been carefully guarded, were 
now produced, and the mirth began to border on the "fast 
and furious." A select band, as usual, remained sober, 
to maintain order and guard against surprise, but the prison 
era were invited to get drunk with their red brothers 
Johnston and Skyles declined the invitation, but Flinn, with 
out waiting to be asked twice, instantly joined the revellers, 
and quickly became as drunk as any of them. In thia 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 207 

situation he entered into a hot dispute with an Indian, 
which, after much abuse on both sides, terminated in blows, 
and his antagonist received a sad battering. Several of 
his tribe drew their knives, and rushed upon Flinn with 
fury, but were restrained amid peals of laughter by the 
others, who declared that Flinn had proved himself a man, 
and should have fair play. 

In the mean time, Johnston and Skyles had been bound 
and removed to a convenient distance from the drinking 
party, with the double design of saving their lives, and 
guarding against escape. While lying in this mannex, 
and totally unable to help themselves, they beheld with 
terror, one of the revellers staggering towards them, with 
a drawn knife in his hand, and muttering a profusion of 
drunken curses. He stopped within a few paces of them, 
and harangued them with great vehemence, for nearly a 
minute, until he had worked himself up to a state of in- 
sane fury, when suddenly uttering a startling yell, he 
sprung upon the prostrate body of Skyles and seizing him 
by the hair endeavored to scalp him. Fortunately he was 
too much intoxicated to exert his usual dexterity, and be- 
fore he had succeeded in his design, the guard ran up at 
full speed, and seizing him by the shoulders, hurled him 
violently backwards to the distance of several yards. The 
drunken beast rolled upon the ground, and wrth difficulty 
recovering his feet, staggered off, muttering curses against 
the white man, the guard, himself, and the whole world. 
Skyles had only felt the point of the knife, but had given 
up his scalp for lost, and rubbed the crown of his head 
several times with feverish apprehensions, before he could 
be satisfied that his scalp was still safe. 

No other incident occurred during the night, and on 
the following morning the Indians separated. Those to 
whom Flinn belonged, remained at the river in expecta- 
tion of intercepting other boats, while Johnston's party 
struck through the wilderness, in a steady direction for 
their towns. During their first day's march, he afibrded 
much amusement to his captors. In the boat abandoned 
by Captain Marshall, they had found a milch cow. halter- 
ed in the usual manner. Upon kaving the river, they 



208 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

committed her to the care of Johnston, requiring him to 
lead her by the halter. Being totally unaccustomed to 
this method of travelling, she proved very refractory and 
perplexed him exceedingly. When he took one side of a 
tree, she regularly chose the other. Whenever he at* 
tempted to lead her, she planted her feet firmly before 
her, and refused to move a step. When he strove to 
drive her, she ran off into the bushes, dragging him after 
her, to the no small injury of his person and dress. 

The Indians were in a roar of laughter throughout the 
whole day, and appeared highly to enjoy his perplexity. 
At night they arrived at a small encampment, where they 
had left their women and children. Here, to his great 
joy, Johnston w^as relieved of his charge, and saw her 
slaughtered with the utmost gratification. At night, he 
suffered severely by the absence of the benevolent Mess- 
nawa, to whose charge, as we have already said, he had 
been committed. The Indians were apprehensive of pur- 
suit, and directed Messhawa, at the head of several war- 
riors, to bring up the rear, and give them seasonable 
warning of any attempt on the part of the whites to re- 
gain their prisoners. In his absence, he had been com- 
mitted to an Indian of very different character. 

While his new master was engaged in tying his hands, 
as usual, for the night, he ventured to complain that the 
eoi*d was drawn too tight, and gave him unnecessary pain. 
The Indian flew into a passion, exclaimed, "D — n you 
soul !" and drew the cord with all the violence of which 
he was capable, until it was completely buried in the 
flesh. Johnston, in consequence, did not sleep for a mo- 
ment, but passed the whole night in exquisite torture. In 
the morning Messhawa came up, and finding his prisoner 
in a high fever, and his hands excessively swollen, instant- 
ly cut the cords, and exchanged some high words with the 
other Indian upon the subject. 

The march was recommenced, and Johnston could not 
avoid congratulating himself every moment, upon his good 
fortune in having Messhawa for his guide. Skyles' mas- 
ter seemed to take pleasure in tormenting him. In addi* 
tion to an enormous quantity of baggage, he compelled 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 209 

him to carry his rifle, by which his raw wound was per- 
petually irritated and prevented from healing. Messha- 
wa permitted Johnston to share his own mess upon all 
occasions; while the savage to whom Skyies belonged, 
would scarcely permit him to eat a dozen mouthfuls a 
day, and never without imbittering his meat with curses 
and blo^^s. In a few days they arrived at the Scioto riv- 
er, which, from the recent rains, was too high to admit of 
being forded. The Indians were instantly employed in 
constructing a raft, and it was necessary to carry one very 
large log, several hundred yards. 

Two Indians with a handspike supported the lighter 
end, while the butt was very charitably bestowed upon 
Johnston alone. Not daring to murmur, he exerted his 
utmost strength, and aided by several Indians, with some 
difficulty, succeeded in placing the enormous burden upon 
his shoulder. He quickly found, however, that the weight 
was beyond his strength, and wishing to give his two com- 
panions in front warning of his inability to support it, he 
called to them in English to " take care !" They did not 
understand him, however, and continued to support it, 
when finding himself in danger of being crushed to death, 
he dropped the log so suddenly that both Indians were 
knocked down, and lay for a time without sense or motion. 
They soon sprung up, however, and drawing their toma- 
hawks, would instantly have relieved Johnston of all his 
troubles, had not the other Indians, amid peals of laughter, 
restrained them, and compelled them to vent their spleen 
in curses, which were shov/ered upon " Ketepels," as he 
was called, for the space of an hour w4th great fury. 

After crossing the Scioto, the Indians displayed a dispo- 
sition to loiter and throw away time, but little m unison 
with Johnston's feelings, who was anxious to reach their 
towns as speedily as possible, flattering himself with the 
hope that some benevolent trader would purchase him of 
the Indians and restore him to liberty. They amused 
themselves at a game called " Nosey," with a pack of 
cards which had been found in one of the abandoned boats. 
The pack is equally divided between tw^o of them, and by 
some process which Johnstoj^ did not understand, each en- 



21 WESTERN ADVEKTURE. 

deavored to get all the cards into his own possession. The 
winner had a right to ten fillips at his adversary's nose, 
which the latter was required to sustain with inflexible 
gravity, as the winner was entitled to ten additional fillips 
for every smile which he succeeded in forcing from him. 
At this game they would be engaged for a whole day, 
with the keenest interest, the bystanders looking on with 
a delight scarcely inferior to that of the gamblers them- 
selves, and laughing immoderately when the penalty was 
exacted. 

When gaming, they were unusually kind to their prison- 
ers, but this ray of sunshine was frequently very suddenly 
overcast. Johnston ventured to ask an old Shawnee chief, 
how far they would be forced to travel, before reaching 
his village. The old man very good naturedly assured 
him, by drawing a diagram upon the sand with a stick, 
pointing out the situation of the Ohio river, of the Scioto, 
and of the various Indian villages, and pointing to the sun, 
he waved his hand once for every day, which they would 
employ in the journey. Johnston then ventured to ask 
<«how many inhabitants his village contained?" The old 
man replied, that the Shawnees had once been a great 
nation, but (and here his eyes flashed fire, and he worked 
himself into a furious passion,) the long knives had killed 
nearly the whole of his nation. "However," continued 
he, "so long as there is a Shawnee alive, we will f,ght! 
fight! fight! When no Shawnee — then no fight." 

The prisoners were also in great danger whenever the 
Indians passed through a forest which had been surveyed, 
and where the marks of the axe upon the trees were evi- 
dent. They would halt upon coming to such a tree, and 
after, a few minutes silence, would utter the most terrible 
yells, striking the trees with their hatchets, and cursing 
the prisoners with a fierceness which caused them often 
to abandon all hopes of life. On one occasion they passed 
suddenly from the most ferocious state of excitement, to 
the opposite extreme of merriment, at a slight disaster 
which befell Johnston. They were often compelled to 
ford creeks, but upon one occasion, they attempted to pass 
Upon a log. The morning was bitterly cold and frosty, 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLKS. %\l 

and the log having been barked, was consequently very 
fllippery. 

In passing upon this bridge, Johnston's foot slipped, and 
he fell into the cold water, with an outcry so sudden and 
shrill that the whole party, which the instant before had 
been inflamed with rage, burst at once into loud laughter, 
which, at intervals, was maintained for several miles. 
Sometimes they amused themselves by compelling their 
prisoners to dance, causing them to pronounce in a tone 
bordering on music, the words " Kom-ne-kah! He-kah-kah! 
Was-sat-oo- — Hos-ses-kah!*^ and this monotonous and fa- 
tiguing exercise, was occasionally relieved by the more 
exciting one, of springing over a large fire, when the 
blaze was at its highest, in which they could only escape 
injury by great activity. 

Their painful journey had now lasted nearly a month, 
and the Indian towns were yet at a great distance. Hith- 
erto, Skyles and Johnston had remained together, but by 
the whimsical fancy of their captors, they were now sep- 
arated. Skyles was borne off to the Miami towns, while 
Johnston was destined for Sandusky. A few days after 
this separation, Johnston's party fell in with a Wyandott 
and a negro man, who, having run away from Kentucky, 
had been taken up by the Wyandott, and retained as an 
assistant in a very lucrative trade, which he was at that 
time carrying on with the Indians of the interior. He 
was in the habit of purchasing whisky, powder, blankets, 
&c., at Detroit, generally upon credit, packing them upon 
horses into the interior, and exchanging them at a profit 
of nearly one thousand per cent, for furs and hides. This 
casual rencounter in the wilderness, was followed by great 
demonstrations of joy on both sides. The trader produced 
his rum, the Shawnees their merchandise, and a very 
brisk exchange ensued. 

Johnston's boots, for which he had paid eight dollars in 
Virginia, wxre gladly given for a pint of rum, and other 
articles were sold at a proportionate price. Johnston, aa 
before, was removed from the immediate neighborhood of 
the revellers, and committed to the care of two sober In- 
dians, with strict injunctions to prevent his escape. They^ 



812 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

accordingly, bound him securely, and passing the ends of 
the cord under their own bodies, lay down to sleep, one 
upon each side of their prisoner. At midnight, Johnston 
was awakened by a heavy rain, although his guards slept 
on with most enviable composure. Unable to extricate 
himself, and fearful of awakening them, he was endeav- 
oring to submit with patience, when the negro appeared, 
and very courteously invited him to take shelter in his 
tent, which stood within fifty yards of the spot where he 
lay. 

Johnston was beginning to explain to his black friend 
the impossibility of moving without the consent of his 
guards, when they suddenly sprung to their feet, and 
seizing the negro by the throat, and at the same time 
grasping Johnston's collar, they uttered the alarm halloo in 
the most piercing tones. The whole band of drunken 
Indians instantly repeated the cry, and ran up, tomahawk 
in hand, and with the most ferocious gestures. Johnston 
gave himself up for lost, and the negro looked white with 
terror, but their enemies conducted themselves with more 
discretion, than, from their drunken condition, could have 
been anticipated. They seized Johnston, bore him off a 
few paces into the woods, and questioned him closely as 
to the conference between himself and the negro. He 
replied by simply and clearly stating the truth. They 
then grappled the negro, and menacing him with their 
knives, threatened to take his scalp on the spot, if he 
did not tell the truth. His story agreed exactly with 
Johnston's, and the Indians became satisfied that no plot 
had been concerted. 

The incident, however, had completely sobered them, 
and for several hours the rum cask gave way to the danc- 
ing ring, which was formed in front of the negro's tent, 
where Johnston had been permitted, after the alarm sub- 
sided, to take shelter from the rain. He quickly fell 
asleep, but was grievously tormented by the nightmare. 
He dreamed that he was drowning in the middle of the 
creek which he had crossed on that morning, and his res- 
piration became so laborious and painful, that he at length 
awoke. The song and the dance were still geing on 



JOHNSTON. FLINN. AND SKYLES. 213 

aroiind him, and the cause of his unpleasant dream was 
made manifest. A huge Indian had very composedly 
seated himself upon his breast, and was smoking a long 
pipe, and contemplating the dancers, apparently very well 
satisfied with his seat. Johnston turned himself upon his 
side, and threw the Indian off. He did not appear to rel« 
ish the change of place much, but soon settled himself 
and continued to smoke with uninterrupted gravity. 

At daylight, a new scene presented itself. The war- 
riors painted themselves in the most frightful colors, and 
performed a war dance, with the usual accompaniments. 
A stake, painted in alternate stripes of black and ver- 
milion, was fixed in the ground, and the dancers moved 
in rapid but measured evolutions around it. They re- 
counted, with great energy, the wrongs which they had 
received from the whites. Their lands had been taken 
from them, their corn cut up, their villages burnt, their 
friends slaughtered ; every injury which they had received 
was dwelt upon, until their passions had become inflamed 
beyond all control. Suddenly, Chickatonmio darted from 
the circle of dancers, and with eyes flashing fire, ran up 
to the spot where Johnston was sitting, calmly contempla- 
ting the spectacle before him. When within reach he 
struck him a furious blow with his fist, and was preparing 
to repeat it, when Johnston seized him by the arms, and 
hastily demanded the cause of such unprovoked vio- 
lence. 

Chickatommo, grinding his teeth with rage, shouted 
<<Sit down! sit down!" Johnston obeyed, and the Indian, 
perceiving the two white children within ten steps of him, 
snatched up a tomahawk, and advanced upon them with a 
quick step and a determined look. The terrified little crea- 
tures instantly arose from the log on which they were 
sitting, and fled into the woods, uttering the most piercing 
screams, while their pursuer rapidly gained upon them with 
his tomahawk uplifted. The girl, being the youngest, 
was soon overtaken, and would instantly have been toma- 
hawked, had not Messhawa bounded like a deer to her 
relief. He arrived barely in time to arrest the uplifted 
tomahawk of Chickatomnw, afler which, he seized him by 



^14 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the collar and hurled him violently backwardj to the dis« 
tance of several paces. 

Snatching up the child in his arms, he then ran after the 
brother, intending to secure him likewise from the fury 
of his companion, but the boy, misconstruing his intention, 
continued his flight with such rapidity, and doubled several 
times with such address, that the chase was prolonged to 
the distance of several hundred yards. At length Mes- 
shawa succeeded in taking him. The boy, thinking him- 
self lost, uttered a wild cry, which was echoed by his 
sister, but both were instantly calmed. Messhawa took 
them in his arms, spoke to them kindly, and soon convin- 
ced them that they had nothing to fear from him. He 
quickly reappeared, leading them gently by the hand, and 
soothing them in the Indian language, until they both 
elung to him closely for protection. No other incident 
disturbed the progress of the ceremonies, nor did Chicka- 
tommo appear to resent the violent interference of Mes- 
shawa. 

Their rum had not yet become exhausted, and after the 
conclusion of the w^ar dance, they returned to it with re- 
newed vigor. A lame Mingo, on a solitary hunting 
excursion, soon joined them, and with drunken hospitality, 
was pressed, and in some degree compelled, to get drunk 
with them. They soon became very affectionate, and the 
Mingo, taking advantage of the momentary generosity 
produced by the rum, ventured to ask that Johnston might 
be given to him, for a particular purpose, which he ex- 
plained to them. He said that he had lately killed a 
warrior of the Wyandott tribe, whose widow had clamor- 
ously demanded that he (the Mingo) should either procure 
her another husband, or lay down his own life, as a pen- 
alty for the slain Wyandott. 

He added that he was too poor to procure her another 
husband, unless he should take that honorable office upon 
himself, for which he had but small inclination, the squaw 
in question being well stricken in years, tolerably crooked, 
and withal a most terrible scold, and that he must submit 
to the other alternative, and lay down his life, unless the 
Shawnees would have compassion upon him, and give him 



JOHNSTON, FLINN. AND SKYLES. 217 

Johasion, who, (he said,) being young and handsome, 
would doubtless be acceptable to the squaw aforesaid, and 
console her faithful heart for the loss of her former hus- 
band. He urged his suit with so much earnestness, that 
the Shawnees relented, and assured him that Johnston 
should instantly be delivered into his hands. This was 
accordingly done, without the slightest regard to the pris- 
oner's inclination, and within an hour, the whole party 
took leave of him, shaking him heartily by the hand, and 
congratulating him upon his approaching happiness, telling 
him that there was a fine squaw awaiting for him in the 
Wyandott town. 

Johnston would have liked the adoption better without 
the appendage of the bride, but thinking that if she were 
one of the furies, her society would be preferable to the 
stake and hot irons, he determined to make the best of his 
condition, and wear his shackles as easily as possible, un- 
til an opportunity offered of effecting his escape. His new 
master, after lingering around the late encampment until 
late in the day, at length shouldered his wallet, and moveci 
off by the same route which the Shawnees had taken. 
By noon, on the following day, they came up with them, 
when a curious scene ensued. As soon as the Shawnees 
had become sober, they repented their late liberality, and 
determined to reclaim their prisoner; the Mingo stoutly 
demurred, and a long argument took place, accompanied 
by animated gestures, and not a few oaths on both sides. 
At length Messhawa put an end to the wrangling by 
seizing a horse by the halter, and ordering Johnston in- 
stantly to mount. He then sprung upon another, and 
applying the lash smartly to both horses, he quickly bore 
the prisoner beyond the sound of the Mingo's voice. 

An hour's ride brought them to Upper Sandusky, where 
Messhawa dismounted, and awaited the arrival of Chick- 
atommo. He soon appeared, accompanied by his party, 
and followed by the discontented Mingo. This man re- 
garded Johnston from time to time with so earnest a 
countenance, and appeared so desirous of approaching 
him, that the latter became alarmed, lest in the rage of 
disappointment, he should inflict upon the prisoner the 



218 WESTERN ADVEKTUR^. 

vengeance which he dared not indulge against the Shaw- 
nees. But his fears were quickly relieved. The Mingo 
dogged him so faithfully, that he at length came upon 
him while alone, and approaching him with a good natured 
smile, presented a small pamphlet which Johnston had 
dropped on the preceding day. Having done this, he 
shook him by the hand, and immediately left the village 

At Sandusky, Johnston became acquainted with Mr. 
Duchouquet, a French trader, who had for several years 
resided among the Indians, and was extensively engaged 
in the fur trade. To him, he recounted his adventures, 
and earnestly solicited his good offices in delivering him 
from the Indians. Duchouquet promptly assured him, 
that every exertion should be used for that purpose, and 
lost no time in redeeming his pledge. That evening he 
spoke to Chickatommo, and oifered a liberal ransom for 
the prisoner, but his efforts were fruitless. The Shaw 
nee chief did not object to the price, but declared that no 
sum should induce them to give him up, until they had 
first taken him to their towns. This answer was quickly 
reported to Johnston, and filled him with despair. But 
as the Shawnee party were engaged in another drinkin[^ 
bout, he entreated Duchouquet, to seize the favorable 
moment, when their hearts were mellowed by rum, and 
repeat his offer. The Frenchman complied, and was 
again peremptorily refused. Johnston now desired him 
to inquire of Chickatommo the name of the town to 
which he was to be taken, and the fate which was in re- 
serve for him, upon his arrival there. 

To the first question Chickatommo promptly replied, 
that the prisoner was to be carried to the Miami villages, 
but to the second he gave no satisfactory answer, being 
probably ignorant himself upon the subject. The men- 
tion of the Miami villages, completely extinguished evei7 
spark of hope which still existed in Johnston's breast, as 
those towns had heretofore been the grave of every 
white prisoner who had visited them. He had also heard, 
that the Indians carefully concealed from their victims the 
^te which awaited them, either from some instinctive 
feelings of compassion, or more probably from policy, in 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 219 

order to prevent the desperate efforts to escape, which 
were usual with prisoners who were informed of their 
destiny. Under these circumstances, he gloomily aban« 
doned himself to despair, and lay down in helpless ex- 
pectation of his fate. But no sooner had he abandoned 
the case, than fortune, as usual, put in her oar, and dis- 
played that capricious but omnipotent power, for which 
she has so long and so deservedly been celebrated. The 
same Wyandott trader, who had encountered them in the 
wilderness, now again appeared at Sandusky, with several 
horses laden with kegs of rum, and in the course of two 
days, completely stripped them of every skin, blanket, 
and article of merchandise, which had escaped his rapa- 
city before. 

On the morning of the third day, Chickatommo and 
his party awoke as from a dream, and found themselves 
poor, destitute, ragged, and hungry, without the means of 
supplying any of their wants. Ashamed to return to 
their village in this condition, after having sent before 
them so magnificent a description of their wealth, they 
determined to return to the Ohio, in hopes of again re- 
plenishing their purses at the expense of emigrants. 
They accordingly appeared of their own accord before 
Duchouquet, and declared that as the scalp of their pris- 
oner would be transported more easily than his person, 
they had determined to burn him on that evening; but, if 
he still wished to purchase him, they would forego the 
expected entertainment for his sake, and let him have 
th,e prisoner upon good terms. Duchouquet eagerly ac- 
cepted the offer, and instantly counted down six hundred 
silver brooches, the ordinary price of a prisoner. The 
Indians lost no time in delivering him into the trader^s 
hands, and having taken an affectionate leave of him, 
they instantly set out for the Ohio. 

Johnston's gratification may easily be conceived, but 
on the following day, his apprehensions returned with 
renewed vigor. To his great surprise, Chickatommo and 
his party again made their appearance at Sandusky, hav- 
ing abandoned their contemplated trip to Ohio, and loi- 
tered about the village for several days, without any 



220 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

visible cause for such capricious conduct. Johnston, 
recollecting their former whimsical bargain with th« 
Mingo, was apprehensive that the same scene was to be 
repeated, and resolving not to be taken alive, he armed 
himself, and awaited calmly their determination. His 
suspicions, however, were entirely groundless. They 
passed him several times without the slightest notice, 
and at length set off in earnest for Detroit, leaving hire 
at full liberty with his friend Duchouquet. 

On the evening of their departure, a Delaware arrived 
from the Miami villages, with the heart-rending intelli- 
gence, that his unfortunate companion, Fiinn, had been 
burned at the stake a few days before. The savage de- 
clared that he himself had been present at the spectacle, 
had assisted in torturing him, and had afterwards eaten a 
portion of his flesh, which he declared "was sweeter than 
bear's meat.'' The intelligence was fully confirmed on 
the following day by a Canadian trader, who had just left 
the Miami towns. He stated that Flinn had been taken 
to their villages, and at first had entertained strong hopes 
of being adopted, as his bold, frank, and fearless character 
had made considerable impression upon his enemies. But 
the arrival of some wild chiefs from the extreme northern 
tribes, most of whom were cannibals, had completely 
changed his prospects. A wild council was held, in 
which the most terrible sentiments with regard to the 
whites were uttered. The custom of adopting prisoners 
was indignantly reprobated, as frivolous and absurd, and 
the resolution proclaimed that henceforth no quarter 
should be given to any age, sex, or condition. 

Flinn was accordingly seized and fastened to the stake 
The trader was one of the spectators. Flinn quickly ob- 
served him, and asked if he was not ashamed to witness 
the distress of a fellow creature in that manner, without 
making some effort to relieve him; upon which he instant 
ly ran to the village and brought out several kegs of rum, 
which he offered as a ransom for the prisoner. The In- 
dians, who, by this time, were in a terrible rage, rejected 
the offer with fierceness, and split the heads of the kegs 
with their tomahawks, suffering the liquor to flow unheeA 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, A.ND SKYU£». 22 1 

ed upon the ground. The disappointed trader again r«* 
turned to the village, and brought out six hundred silver 
brooches. They, in turn, were rejected with additional 
fury, and not without a threat of treating him in the same 
manner, if he again interfered. The trader, finding every 
effort vain, communicated his ill success to Flinn, who 
heard him with composure, and barely replied, <^Then all 
I have to say is, God have mercy upon my soul!^ 

The scene of torture then commenced, amid whoopa and 
yells, which struck terror to the heart of the trader, but 
which the prisoner bore with the most heroic fortitude. 
Not a groan escaped him. He walked calmly around the 
stake for several hours, until his flesh was roasted, and 
the fire had burned down. An old squaw then approached 
in order to rekindle it, but Flinn, watching his opportunity, 
gave her so furious a kick in the breast, that she fell back 
totally insensible, and for several minutes she was unable 
to take any further share in the ceremony. The warriors 
then bored his ancles, and passing thongs through the sin* 
ews, confined them closely to the stake, so that he was 
unable afterwards to offer the same resistance. His suf- 
ferings continued for many hours, until they were at 
tength terminated by the tomahawk. 

Within a few days, he also heard of Skylcs. After 
leaving Johnston, this gentleman had been conducted to 
one of the towns on the Miami of the lake, near the scene 
of Flinn's execution, where, as usual, he was compelled 
to run the gauntlet. The Indian boys were his chief tor- 
mentors. One of the little urchins displayed particular 
address and dexterity in his infernal art. He provided 
himself with a stout switch taken from a thorn tree, upon 
which one of the largest thorns had been permitted to re 
main. As Skyles passed him, he drove the keen instru- 
ment up to the head in his naked back. The switch was 
wrested from his grasp, and was borne by Skyles, sticking 
in his back, to the end of his painful career. He continued 
in the hands of the same crabbed master, who had taken 
such pleasure in tormenting him upon the march through 
the wilderness; but had found means to make himself so 



S 



22a WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

acceptable to his squaw, that his time was rendered noore 
agreeable than he could have anticipated. 

He carried water for her, gathered her wood, and sooth- 
ed her sullen temper bjr a thousand little artifices, so thai 
her husband, who stood in some awe of his helpmate, wa« 
compelled to abate somewhat of his churlishness. He at 
length reaped the fruit of his civility. The squaw return- 
ed one evening alone to the wigwfim, and informed Skyles, 
in confidence, that his d^ath had been determined on, in 
council, and that tlie following day had been appointed for 
his execution. He at first doubted the truth of this start- 
ling intelligence, and retiring to rest as usual, feigned to 
be asleep, but listened attentively to the conversation of 
the old squaw with her daughter, a young girl of fifteen. 
His doubts were quickly dispelled, His approaching ex- 
ecuticm was the subject of conversation betweep them^ 
and their language soon became warm, The old lady 
insisted upon it that he was a good man, and ought to be 
saved; while the girl exulted at the idea of witnessing hi» 
agonies, declaring repeatedly that the ^^ white people were 
all devils,'^ and ought to be put to death. 

At length they ceased wrangling, and composed them- 
selves to rest. Skyles then arose, took down his master'* 
rifle, shot bag, and corn pouch, and stepping lightly over 
the bodies of the family, quickly gained the wood, and 
bent his steps to the bank of the Miami river. Withoi|| 
an instant's delay, he plunged into the stream, and swaip 
to the opposite side. In doing so, however, he completely 
ruined his rifle, and was compelled to throw it away- 
Retaining the wallet of parched corn, he directed his step3 
to the southward, intending, if possible, to strike the set? 
tiements in Kentucky, but so poor a woodsman was he^ 
that after a hard march of six hours, he again stumbled 
upon the Miami, within one hundred yards of the spot 
where he had crossed it before. While anxiously medi- 
tating upon the best means of avoiding the dangers whicl) 
urrounded him, he heard the tinkle of a bell within a few 
hundred yards of the spot where he stood, and directing 
his steps towards it, he saw a horse grazing quietly upoa 
the rank grass of the bottom. 



/OHNSTOlsr, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 2113 

Instantly mounting him, he again attempted to move in 
a southern direction, but was compelled by the thickness 
of the v/o©d, and the quantity of fallen timber, to change 
his course so frequently, that he again became bewildered, 
and abandoning his horse, determined to prosecute his 
journey on foot. Daylight found him in a deep forest, 
without a path to direct him, without the means of pro- 
curing food, and without the slightest knowledge of any 
of those signs by which an experienced woodsman is en- 
abled to direct his course through a trackless wilderness 
with such unerring certainty. Fearful of stumbling una- 
wares upon some Indian town, he lay concealed all day, 
and at night recommenced his journey. But fresh per- 
plexities awaited him at every step. He was constantly 
encountering either a small village or a solitary wigwam, 
from which he was frequently chased by the Indian dogs, 
with such loud and furious barking, that he more than 
once considered detection inevitable. 

In this manner he wandered through the woods for sev- 
eral days, until faint with hunger, he determined at all 
risks to enter an Indian village, and either procure food 
or perish in the attempt. Having adopted this resolution, 
he no longer loitered on the way, but throwing himself 
boldly upon the first path which presented itself, he follow- 
ed it at a brisk and steady pace, careless of where it might 
lead. About four o'clock in the afternoon, he came so 
suddenly upon a village that it was impossible to retreat 
without exposing himself to detection, and as he consider- 
ed it madness to enter it in daylight, he concealed himself 
among some old logs until nightfall, when he sallied out 
like an owl or a wolf in search of something to allay the 
piercing pangs of hunger. Nothing could be picked up 
upon the skirts of the village, as neither roasting-ears nor 
garden fruit were in season, and it became necessary to 
enter the town or perish of hunger. 

Fortunately, the embers of a decayed fire lay near him, 
in which he found a sufficient quantity of coal with which 
to black his face and hands; and having completely dis- 
guised himself in this manner, he boldly marched into the 
\iostile town, to take such fate as it should please heaven 



224 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

to send. He luckily had with him the remnant of a blan 
ket, which he disposed about his person in the usual Indi 
an manner, and imitating at the same time their strag- 
gling gait, he kept the middle of the street and passed un- 
questioned by squaw or wamor. Fortunately for him, 
the streets were almost entirely deserted, and as he after- 
wai-ds learned, most of the warriors were absent. Securi- 
ty, however, was not his present object so much as food, 
which indeed had now become indispensable. Yet how 
was he to obtain it? He would not have hesitated to steal 
liad he known where to look for the larders ; nor to be^ 
had he not known that he would have been greeted with 
^he tomahawk. 

While slowly marching through the village, and rumi- 
nating upon some feasible plan of satisfying his wants, 
he saw light in a wigwam at some distance, which gave 
it the appearance of a trader's booth. Cautiously ap- 
proaching, he satisfied himself of the truth of his conjec- 
ture. A white man was behind a counter dealing out 
various articles to several squaws who stood around him. 
After some hesitation, Skyles entered the shop, and in bad 
English asked for rum. The trader regarded him care- 
lessly, and without appearing surprised at either his dress 
or manner, replied that he had no rum in the house, but 
would go and bring him some, if he could wait a few mo- 
ments. So saying, he leaped carelessly over the counter 
and left the shop. Skyles instantly followed him, and 
stopping him in the street, briefly recounted his story, and 
throwing himself upon his mercy, earnestly implored his 
assistance. 

The trader appeared much astonished, and visibly hes- 
itated. Quickly recovering himself, however, he assured 
Skyles that he would use every effort to save him, although 
in doing so, he himself would incur great risk. He then 
informed him that a band of Shawnees had appeared at 
the village on that very morning in keen pursuit of a 
prisoner, who (they said) had escaped a few days before, 
and whom they supposed to be still in the neighborhood, 
from the zigzag manner in which he had travelled. Many 
of the warriors of the town were at that moment assisting 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 225 

the Shawnees in hunting for him. He added, that they 
might be expected to return in the morning, in which 
case, if discovered, his death would be certain. Skyles 
listened in great alarm to his account of the danger which 
surrounded him. If he left the village, he could scarcely 
expect to escape the numerous bands who were ranging 
the forest in search of him! — If he remained where he 
was, the danger was still more imminent. 

Under these circumstances, he earnestly requested the 
advice of the trader as to the best means of avoiding his 
enemies. The man replied, that he must instantly leave 
the village, as keen eyes would be upon him in the mor- 
ning, and his design would be penetrated. That he must 
conceal himself in a hazel thicket, which he pointed out 
to him, where in a short time he would join him with food, 
and where they could arrange some feasible plan of escape. 
They then separated, the trader returning to his shop, 
and Skyles repairing to the friendly thicket. Here within 
a few minutes he was joined by his friend, who informed 
him that he saw but one possible mode of escape. That 
it would be impossible for him either to remain where he 
was, or to attempt to reach the white settlements through 
the woods; but he declared that if he was diligent and 
active, he might overtake a boat, which had left them that 
morning for Lake Erie, and offered him his own skiff for 
that purpose. 

He added that the boat was laden with furs, and was 
commanded by an English captain, who would gladly re- 
ceive him on board. Skyles eagerly embraced the offer, 
and they proceeded without a moment's delay to the river 
shore, where a handsome skiff with two oars lay in readi- 
ness for the water. Having taken an affectionate leave 
of the trader, Skyles put off from shore, and quickly gain- 
ing the current, rowed until daylight with the zeal of a 
man who knew the value of life and liberty. His greatest 
apprehension was, that his flight would be discovered in 
time to prevent his reaching the boat; and at every rust- 
ling of the bushes on the bank of the river, or at every 
cry of the ow^l which arose from the deep forest around 
him, the blood would rush back to his heart, and he would 



220 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

fancy that his enemies were upon him. At length, be* 
tween dawn and sunrise, he beheld the boat, which he 
had pursued so eagerly, only a few hundred yards in front, 
drifting slowly and calmly down the stream. 

He redoubled his exertions, and in half an hour, was 
within hailing distance. He called aloud for them to halt, 
but no answer was returned. Upon coming along side, 
he was unable to see a single man on board. Supposing 
her crew asleep, he mounted the side of the vessel, and 
saw the man at the helm enjoying a very comfortable nap, 
with the most enviable disregard to the dangers which 
might await him in the waters of Lake Erie, which 
were then in sight. The helmsman started up, rubbed his 
eyes, looked around him, and after saluting his visitor, 
observed that «he had almost fallen asleep.^' Skyles 
agreed with him, and anxiously inquired for the captain. 
The latter soon made his appearance in a woollen night- 
cap, and the negotiation commenced. The captain asked 
who he was, and what was the cause of so early a visit? 
Skyles was fearful of committing himself by a premature 
disclosure of his real character, and replied, that he was 
an adventurer who had been looking out for land upon the 
Auglaize; but that he had been driven from the country 
by the apprehension of outrage from the Indians, who had 
lately become unusually incensed against the whites. 

The captain coolly replied, that he had heard of one 
white man having been burned a few days before, at one 
of the Miami villages, and had understood that another 
had avoided the same fate only by running away into the 
woods, where, unless retaken, it was supposed he would 
perish, as he had shown himself a miserable woodsman, 
and as numerous parties were in search of him. After a 
moment's hesitation Skyles frankly acknowledged himself 
to be that miserable fugitive, and threw himself at once 
upon their mercy. The English captain heard him appa- 
rently without surprise, and granted his request without 
\3sitation. All was done with the utmost sang froid. 
In a short time, they arrived at Detroit, where to his no 
small astonishment, he beheld Chickatommo, Messhawa, 
and their party, who had just arrived from Sandusky, after 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. ggiy 

the sale of Johnston. Carefully avoiding them, he lay 
close in the house of a trader until the following day, 
when another large party arrived in pursuit of him, (hav- 
ing traced him down the river to Lake Erie,) and paraded 
^e streets for several days, uttering loud complaints 
against those who had robbed them of their prisoner. Poor 
Skyles entertained the most painful apprehensions for 
several days, but was at length relieved by their depar- 
ture. As soon as possible, he obtained a passage to Mon- 
treal, and returned in safety to the United States. 

In noticing the fate of the companions of Johnston's 
captivity, we are naturally led to say something of the on- 
ly female of the party. The reader cannot have forgotten 
that one of the Miss Flemings was killed upon the Ohio, 
and that the other became a prisoner, and was assigned 
to the Cherokees, Johnston had been much surprised at 
the levity of her conduct, when first taken. Instead of 
appearing dejected at the dreadful death of her sister, and 
the still more terrible fate of her friends, she never ap- 
peared more lively or better reconciled to her fate than 
while her captors lingered upon the banks of the Ohio. 
Upon the breaking up of the party, the Cherokees conduct- 
ed their prisoner towards the Miami villages, and Johnston 
saw nothing more of her until after his own liberation. 
While he remained at the house of Mr. Duchouquet, the 
small party of Cherokees to whom she belonged, suddenly 
made their appearance in the village, in a condition so 
tattered and dilapidated, as to satisfy every one that all 
their booty had been wasted with their usual improvi- 
dence. 

Miss Fleming's appearance, particularly, had been en 
tirely changed. All the levity which had astonished John- 
ston so much on the banks of the Ohio, was completely 
gone. Her dress was tattered, her cheeks sunken, her 
eyes discolored by weeping, and her whole manner ex 
pressive of the most heartfelt wretchedness. Johnston 
addressed her with kindness, and inquired the cause of so 
great a change, but she only replied by wringing her 
hands, and bursting into tears. Her master quickly sum- 
;noned her away, and on the morning after her arrival, she 



228 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

was compelled to leave the village, and accompany them 
to Lovi^er Sandusky. Within a few days, Johnston, in 
company with his friend Duchouquet, followed them to 
that place, partly upon business, partly with the hope of 
procuring her liberation. He found the town thronged 
with Indians of various tribes, and there, for the first time, 
he learned that his friend Skyles had cifected his escape. 
Upon inquiring for the Cherokees, he learned that they 
were encamped with their prisoner within a quarter of a 
mile of the town, holding themselves aloof from the rest, 
and evincing the most jealous watchfulness over their 
prisoner. 

Johnston instantly applied to the traders of Sandus- 
ky for their good offices, and as usual, the request was 
promptly complied with. They went out in a body to the 
Cherokee camp, accompanied by a white man named 
Whittaker, who had been taken from Virginia when a 
child, and had become completely naturalized among the 
Indians. This Whittaker was personally known to Miss 
Fleming, having often visited Pittsburgh where her father 
kept a small tavern, much frequented by Indians and tra- 
ders. As soon as she beheld him, therefore, she ran up 
to the spot where he stood, and bursting into tears, im- 
plored him to save her from the cruel fate which she had 
no doubt awaited her. He engaged very zealously in her 
service, and finding that all the offers of the traders w^ere 
rejected with determined obstinacy, he returned to De- 
troit, and solicited the intercession of an old chief known 
among the whites by the name of " Old King Crane,'' as- 
suring him, (a lie which we can scarcely blame,) that the 
woman was his sister. 

King Crane listened with gravity to the appeal of 
Whittaker, acknowledged the propriety of interfering in 
the case of so near a relative, and very calmly walked 
out to the Cherokee camp, in order to try the efficacy of 
his own eloquence in behalf of the white squaw. He 
found her master, however, perfectly inexorable. The 
argument gradually waxed warm, until at length the 
Cherokees became enraged, and told the old man that it 
was a disgrace to a chief like him, to put himself upon a 



JOHNSTON. FLINN, AND SKYLES. 229 

level with " white petple/' and that they looked upon him 
as no better than "di^," ^t this insupportable insult. King 
Crane became exasperatlbd in turn, and a very edifying 
scene ensued, in which each bespattered the other with a 
profusion of abuse for several minutes, until the Old King 
recollected himself sufficiently to draw off for the present, 
and concert measures for obtaining redress. He returned 
to the village in a towering passion, and announced his 
deteiinination to collect his young men and rescue the 
white squaw by force; and if the Cherokees dared to re- 
sist, he swore that he would take their scalps upon the 
spot. 

Whittaker applauded this doughty resolution, but warned 
him of the necessity of despatch, as the Cherokees, alarmed 
at the idea of losing their prisoner, might be tempted to 
put her to death without further delay. This advice was 
acknowledged to be of weight, and before daylight on the 
following morning, King Crane assembled his young men 
and advanced cautiously upon the Cherokee encampment. 
He found all but the miserable prisoner buried in sleep. 
She had been stripped naked, her body painted black, and 
in this condition, had been bound to a stake, around which 
hickory poles had already been collected, and every other 
disposition made for burning her alive at daylight. She 
was moaning in a low tone as her deliverers approached, 
and was so much exhausted as not to be aware of their 
approach until King Crane had actually cut the cords 
which bound her, with his knife. He then ordered his 
young men to assist her in putting on her clothes, which 
they obeyed with the most stoical indifference. 

As soon as her toilet had been completed, the King 
awakened her masters, and informed them that the squaw 
was his! that if they submitted quietly, it was well! — if 
not, his young men and himself were ready for them. 
The Cherokees, as may readily be imagined, protested 
loudly against such unrighteous proceedings, but what 
could words avail against drawn tomahawks and superior 
numbers? They finally expressed their willingness to 
resign the squaw ; but hoped that King Crane would not 
be such a "beast'' as to refuse them the ransom wbfcb 



230 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ne had offered them on the preceding day ! The King 
replied coolly, that he had the squaw now in his own 
hands; and would serve them only right if he refused to pay 
a single brooch; but that he disdained to receive any thing 
at their hands, without paying an equivalent, and would 
give them six hundred silver brooches. He then returned 
to Lower Sandusky, accompanied by the liberated pris- 
oner. She was instantly painted as a squaw by Whitta- 
ker, and sent off, under care of two trusty Indians to 
Pittsburgh, where she arrived in safety in the course of 
the following week. 

The Cherokees, in the evening, paraded the streets ol 
Sandusky, armed and painted^ as if upon a war party, 
and loudly complained of the violence which had been 
offered to them. They declared that they would not 
leave town until they had shed the blood of a white man, 
in revenge for the loss of their prisoner. Johnston and 
Duchouquet were compelled to remain closely at home 
for several days, until, to their great joy, the Cherokees 
finally left the village and were seen no more. 

The remamder of Johnston's narrative is easily des- 
patched. He soon after left Lower Sandusky, and em- 
barked in a boat laden with fur for Detroit. After remain- 
ing here a few days, he took a passage to Montreal, and 
for the first and last time, had an opportunity of beholding 
the tremendous falls of Niagara.^ Having arrived at 
Montreal in safety, he remained a few days in order to 
arrange his affairs, and as soon as possible, continued his 
journey by way of Fort Stanwix to New York. There 
he had an interview with President Washington, who, 
having been informed of his escape, sent for him, in order 
to make a number of inquiries as to the strength of the 
tribes through which he had passed, the force and condi- 
tion of the British garrisons, and the degree of counten- 
ance which they had afforded to the hostile Indians. Hav- 
ing given all the information of which he was possessed, 
he was dismissed with great kindness, and in the course 

* This was an Iroquois word, and in their language signifies "Tha 
Thunder of the waters!" It is pronouRced 0-ni-aa-gaa-ra. 



WILLIAM HUBBELL. 231 

of the fellowing week, he found himself once more in the 
bosom of his famil3^ 

As the reader may probably take some interest in the 
fate of the Indians whom we have mentioned, we are 
enabled to add something upon that subject. Chicka- 
tommo was killed at the decisive battle of the "i'allen 
timber," where the united force of the northwestern 
tribes was defeated by General Wayne. Messhawa 
fought at the same place, but escaped, and afterwards be- 
came a devoted follower of the celebrated Tecumseh. He 
fought at Tippenanoe, Raisin, and finally at the River 
Thames, where it is supposed he was killed. King Crane 
lived to a great age, was present at St. Clair's defeat, and 
at the " Fallen timber,''' but finally became reconciled to 
the Americans, and fought under Harrison at Thames. 
Whittaker, the white man, was in St. Clair's defeat, and 
afterwards with the Indians against Wayne. He has 
been dead many years. Tom Lewis fought against the 
Americans in all the northwestern battles, until the final 
peace in 1796, and then was one of the deputation who 
came on to Washington city, where Johnston saw him in 
1797. He afterwards rose to the rank of chief among 
the Shawnees, but having an incurable propensity to rum 
and thieving, he was degraded from his rank and removed, 
with a band of his countrymen, to the country west of 
the Mississippi. 



CHAPTER XI. 

From the Western Review, 

In the year 1791, while the Indians were yet trouble- 
some, especially on the banks of the Ohio, Captain Wil- 
liam Htjbbell, who had previously emigrated to Kentucky 
from the state of Vermont, and who, after having fixed his 
family in the neighborhood of Frankfort, then a frontier 
settlement^ had been compelled to go to the eastward on 



232 WESTERN ADVEKTURE. 

business, was a second time on his way to this country. 
On one of the tributary streams of the river Mononga 
hela, he procured a flat bottomed boat, and embarked in 
company with Mr. Daniel Light, and Mr. William Plascut 
and his family, consisting of a wife and eight children, 
destined for Limestone, Kentucky. On their progress 
down the river Ohio, and soon after passing Pittsburgh, 
they saw evident traces of Indians along the banks, and 
there is every reason to believe that a boat which they 
overtook, and which, through carelessness, was suffered 
to run aground on an island, became a prey to these mer- 
ciless savages. 

Though Captain Hubbell and his party stopped some 
time for it in a lower part of the river, it did not arrive, 
and it has never to their knowledge been heard of since. 
Before they reached the mouth of the Great Kenhawa, 
they had, by several successive additions, increased their 
number to twenty, consisting of nine men, three women, 
and eight children. The men, besides those mentioned 
above, were one John Stoner, an Irishman and a Dutch- 
man whose names are not recollected, Messrs. Ray ana 
Tucker, and a Mr. Kilpatrick, whose two daughters als^ 
were of the party. Information received at Gallipoli* 
confirmed the expectation, which appearances previously 
raised, of a serious conflict with a large body of Indians; 
and as Captain Hubbell had been regularly appointed com- 
mander of the boat, every possible preparation was made 
for a formidable and successful resistance of the anticipa- 
ted attack. 

The nine men were divided into three watches for the 
night, which were alternately to continue awake and be 
on the look out for two hours at a time. The arms on 
fcoard, which consisted principally of old muskets much 
out of order, were collected, loaded, and put in the best 
possible condition for service. At about sunset on that 
da}^, the 23d of March, 1791, our party overtook a fleet 
of six boats descending the river in company, and intend- 
ed to have continued with them, but as their passengers 
seemed to be more disposed to dancing than fighting, and 
as, soon after dark, notwithstanding the remonstrances of 



WILLIAM HUBBELL 233 

Captain Hubbell, they commenced fiddling and dancing 
instead of preparing their arms and taking the necessary 
rest preparatory to battle, it was wisely considered more 
hazardous to be in such company than to be alone. 

It was therefore determined to proceed rapidly forward 
by aid of the oars, and to leave those thoughtless, fellow- 
travelers behind. One of the boats, however, belonging 
to the fleet, commanded by a Captain Greathouse, adopted 
the same plan, and for a while kept up with Captain Hub- 
bell, but all its crew at length falling asleep, that boat 
also ceased to be propelled by the oars, and Captain Hub- 
bell and his party proceeded steadily forward alone. 
Early in the night a canoe was dimly seen floating down 
the river, in which were probably Indians reconnoitering. 
and other evident indications were observed of the neigh- 
borhood and hostile intentions of a formidable party of 
savages. 

It was nov/ agreed, that should the attack, as was 
probable, be deferred till morning, every man should be 
up before the dawn in order to make as great a show as 
possible of numbers and of strength; and that, whenever 
the action should take place, the women and children 
should lie down on the cabin floor and be protected as 
well as they could by the trunks and other baggage, 
which might be placed around them. In this perilous 
situation they continued during the night, and the captain, 
who had not slept more than one hour since he left Pitts- 
burgh, was too deeply impressed with the imminent dan- 
ger which surrounded him to obtain any rest at that time. 

Just as daylight began to appear in the east, and before 
the men were up and at their posts agreeably to arrange- 
ment, a voice at some distance below them in a plaintive 
tone repeatedly solicited them to come on shore, as there 
svere some white persons who wished to obtain a passage 
m their boat. This the captain very naturally and cor- 
rectly concluded to be an Indian artifice, and its only eflect 
was to rouse the men and place every one on his guard. 
The voice of entreaty was soon changed into the lan^ 
guage of indignation and insult, and the sound of distant 
paddles announced the approach of the savage foe. At 



234 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

length three Indian canoes were seen through the mist 
of the morning rapidly advancing. With the utmost 
coolness the captain and his companions prepared to re- 
ceive them. The chairs, tables and other incumbrances 
were thrown into the river, in order to clear the deck for 
action. 

Every man took his position, and was ordered not to fire 
till the savages had approached so near, that, (to use the 
words of Captain Hubbeli,) "the flash from the guns 
might singe their eyebrows;" and a special caution was 
given, that the men should fire successively, so that there 
might be no interval. On the arrival of the canoes, they 
were found to contain about twenty-five or thirty Indians 
each. As soon as they had approached within the reach 
of musket shot, a general fire was given from one of 
them, which wounded Mr. Tucker through the hip so se- 
verely that his leg hung only by the flesh, and shot Mr. 
Light just below the ribs. The three canoes placed them- 
selves at the bow, stern, and on the right side of the boat, 
so that they had an opportunity of raking in every direc- 
tion. The fire now commenced from the boat, and had a 
powerful effect in checking the confidence and fury of the 
Indians. 

The captain, after firing his own gun, took up that of 
one of the wounded men, raised it to his shoulder, and was 
about to discharge it, when a ball came and took away the 
lock; he coolly turned round, seized a brand of fire from 
the kettle which served for a caboose, and applying it to 
the pan, discharged the piece with effect. A very regu- 
lar and constant fire was now kept up on both sides. The 
captain was just in the act of raising his gun a third time 
when a ball passed through his right arm, and for a mo 
ment disabled him. Scarcely had he recovered from the 
shock and re-acquired the use of his hand, which had been 
suddenly drawn up by the wound, when he observed the 
Indians in one of the canoes just about to board the boat 
in its bow, where the horses were placed belonging to the 
party. So near had they approached, that some of them 
had actually seized with their hands the side of the boat. 

Severely wounded as he was, he caught up a pair oi 



WILLIAM HUBBELL. 2« 

horsemen's pistols and rushed forward to repel the attempt 
at boarding. On his approach the Indians fell back, and 
he discharged a pistol with effect at the foremost man. 
After firing the second pistol, he found himself without 
arms, and was compelled to retreat; but stepping back 
upon a pile of small wood which had been prepared for 
burning in the kettle, the thought struck him, that it might 
be made use of in repelling the foe, and he continued for 
some time to strike them with it so forcibly and actively 
that they were unable to enter the boat, and at length he 
wounded one of them so severely that with a yell they 
suddenly gave way. All the canoes instantly discontinued 
the contest and directed their course to Captain Great- 
house's boat, which was then in sight. Here a striking 
contrast was exhibited to the firmness and intrepidity 
which had been displayed. 

Instead of resisting the attack, the people on board of 
this boat retired to the cabin in dismay. The Indians 
entered it without opposition, and rowed it to the shore, 
where they instantly killed the captain and a lad of about 
fourteen years of age. The women they placed in the 
centre of their canoes, and manning them with fresh 
hands, again pursued Captain Hubbell and party. A 
melancholy alternative now presented itself to these brave 
but almost desponding men, either to fall a prey to the 
savages themselves, or to run the risk of shooting the 
women, who had been placed in the canoes in the hope of 
deriving protection from their presence. But ^^ self pre- 
servation is the first law of nature," and the captain very 
justly remarked, there would not be much humanity in 
preserving their lives at such a sacrifice, merely that they 
might become victims of savage cruelty at some subse- 
quent period. 

There were now but four men left on board of Captain 
Hubbell's boat, capable of defending it, and the captain him- 
self was severely wounded in two places. The second attack, 
however, was resisted with almost incredible firmness and 
vigor. Whenever the Indians would rise to fire, their op- 
ponents would commonly give them the first shot, which 
Ir almost every instance would prove fatal. Notwith- 



236 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Standing the disparity of numbers, and the exhausted con- 
dition of the defenders of the boat, the Indians at length 
appeared to despair of success, and the canoes successively 
retired to the shore. Just as the last one was departing, 
Captain Hubbell called to the Indian, who was standing in 
the stern, and on his turning round, discharged his piece 
at him. When the smoke, which for a moment obstructed 
the vision, was dissipated, he was seen lying on his back, 
and appeared to be severely, perhaps mortally wounded 

Unfortunately the boat now drifted near to the shore 
where the Indians were collected, and a large concourse, 
probably between four and five hundred, were seen rush- 
ing down on the bank. Ray and Plascut, the only men 
remaining unhurt, were placed at the oars, and as the boat 
was not more than twenty yards from shore, it was deem- 
ed prudent for all to lie down in as safe a position as pos- 
sible and attempt to push forward with the utmost practi- 
cable rapidity. While they continued in this situation, 
nine balls were shot into one oar, and ten into the other, 
without wounding the ix)wers, who were hidden from view 
and protected by the side of the boat and the blankets in 
its stern. During this dreadful exposure to the fire of 
the savages, which continued about twenty minutes, Mr. 
Kilpatrick observed a particular Indian, whom he thought 
a favorable mark for his rifle, and, notwithstanding the so- 
lemn warning of Captain Hubbell, rose to shoot him. He 
immediately received a ball in his mouth, which passed 
out at the back part of his head, and was almost at the 
same moment shot through the heart. He fell among the 
horses that about the same time were killed, and present- 
ed to his afflicted daughters and fellow travellers, who 
were witnesses of the awful occurrence, a spectacle of hor- 
ror which we need not further attempt to describe. 

The boat was now providentially and suddenly carried 
out into the middle of the stream, and taken by the cur- 
rent beyond the reach of the enemy's balls. Our little 
band, reduced as they were in numbers, wounded, afflicted, 
and almost exhausted by fatigue, were still unsubdued in 
spirit, and being assembled in all their strength, men, 
women, and children, with an appearance of triumph gave 



WILLIAM HUBBELL. 237 

tkree hearty cheers, calling to the Indians to come on 
again if they were fond of the sport. 

Thus ended this awful conflict, in which out of nine men, 
two only escaped unhurt. Tucker and Kilpatrick were 
killed on the spot, Stoner was mortally wounded and died 
on his arrival at Limestone, and all the rest, excepting 
Ray and Plascut, were severely wounded. The women 
and children were all uninjured, excepting a little son of 
Mr. Plascut, who, after the battle was over, came to the 
captain and with great coolness requested him to take a 
ball out of his head. On examination it appeared that a 
bullet which had passed through the side of the boat had 
penetrated the forehead of .this little hero, and remained 
under the skin. The captain took it out, and the youth, 
observing, " that is not all,'^'^ raised his arm, and exhibited 
a piece of bone at the point of his elbow, which had been 
shot off and hung only by the skin. His mother exclaim- 
ed, " why did you not tell me of this ?" " Because," he 
coolly replied, " the captain directed us to be silent during 
the action, and I thought you would be likely to make a 
noise if I told you." 

The boat made the best of its way down the river, and 
the object was to reach Limestone that night. The cap- 
tain's arm had bled profusely, and he was compelled to 
close the sleeve of his coat in order to retain the blood 
and stop its effusion. In this situation, tormented by ex- 
cruciating pain and faint through loss of blood, he was 
under the necessity of steering the boat with his left arm, 
till about ten o'clock that night, when he was relieved by 
Mr. William Brooks, who resided on the bank of the river, 
and who was induced by the calls of the suffering party 
to come out to their assistance. By his aid and that of 
some other persons who were in the same manner brought 
to their relief, they were enabled to reach Limestone 
about twelve o'clock that night. 

Immediately on the arrival of Mr. Brooks, Captain Hub- 
bell, relieved from labor and responsibility, sunk under 
the weight of pain and fatigue, and became for a while 
totally insensible. When the boat reached Limestone, 
he found himself unable to walk, and was obliged to be 



2%S WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

carried up to the tavern. Here he had his wound dressed 
and continued several days, until he acquired sufficient 
strength to proceed homewards. 

On the arrival of our party at Limestone, they found a 
eonsiderable force of armed men, about to march against 
the same Indians, from whose attacks they had so severely 
suffered. They now learned, that the Sunday preceding, 
the same party of savages had cut off a detachment of 
men ascending the Ohio from Fort Washington at the 
mouth of Licking river, and had killed with their toma- 
hawks, without firing a gun, twenty-one out of twenty-two 
men, of which the detachment consisted. 

Crowds of people, as might be expected, came to wit- 
ness the boat which had been the scene of so much hero- 
ism, and such horrid carnage, and to visit the resolute lit- 
tle band by whom it had been so gallantly and perseve- 
ringly defended. On examination it was found that the 
sides of the boat were literally filled with bullets and with 
bullet holes. There was scarcely a space of two feet 
square in the part above water, which had not eitker a 
ball remaining in it or a hole through which a baii had 
passed. Some persons who had the curiosity to count the 
number of holes in the blankets which were hung yp as 
curtains in the stern of the boat, affirmed that in the space 
of five feet square there were one hundred and twenty 
two. Four horses out of five were killed, and the escape 
of the fifth amidst such a shower of balls appears almost 
miraculous. 

The day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and his 
companions, the five remaining boats, which they had 
passed on the night preceding the battle, reached Lime- 
stone. Those on board remarked, that during the action 
they distinctly saw the flashes, but could not hear the re- 
ports of the guns. The Indians, it appears, had met with 
too formidable a resistance from a single boat to attack a 
fleet, and suffered them to pass unmolested: and since 
that time, it is believed that no boat has been assailed by 
Indians on the Ohio. 

The force which marched out to disperse this formida- 
ble body of savages, discovered several Indians dead on 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN. 339 

tiie shore near the scene of action. They also found the 
bodies of Captain Greathouse and several others, men, 
women and children, who had been on board of his boat. 
Most of them appeared to have been whipped to death, as 
they were found stripped, tied to trees, and marked with 
the appearance of iaslies, and large rods which seemed to 
have been worn with use were observed lying near them. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Heretofore our narrative has chiefly been confined to 
the adventures of individuals, or at most to the irregular 
forays of independent volunteers. We come now, how- 
ever, to events upon a large scale, and to a detail of na- 
tional, not individual efforts. Before entering, however, 
upon such a brief notice as our limits will permit, of the 
events of the northwestern campaign, it will be necessary 
to premise a few observations upon the causes of the long 
continued warfare to which the western states were ex- 
posed, while those upon the borders of the Atlantic enjoy- 
ed all the blessings of peace. 

At the general pacification of 1783, there were several 
stipulations upon both sides, which were not complied 
with. Great Britain had agreed, as speedily as possible, 
to evacuate all the northwestern posts, which lay within 
the boundaries of the United States; while, on the other 
hand. Congress had stipulated that no legal impedimento 
should be thrown in the way, in order to prevent the col- 
lection of debts due to British merchants before the decla- 
ration of war. Large importations had been made by 
American merchants, upon credit, in 1773 and 1774; and 
as all civil intercourse between the two countries had 
ceased until the return of peace, the British creditors 
were unable to collect their debts. Upon the final ratifi- 
cation of the treaty, they naturally became desirous of 
recovering their property, while their debtors as naturally 
were desirous of avoiding payment. 



240 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Congress had stipulated that no legal barrier should be 
thrown in the way; but, as is well known, Congress, 
under the old confederation, was much more prolific in 
« resolutions," or rather "recommendations," than acts. 
The states might or might not comply with them, as 
suited their convenience. Accordingly, when Congress 
recommended the payment of all debts to the state legis- 
latures, the legislatures determined that it was inexpedi- 
ent to comply. The British creditor complained to hia 
government; the government remonstrated with Congress, 
upon so flagrant a breach of one of the articles of paci- 
fication; Congress appealed to the legislatures ; the legis- 
latures were deaf and obstinate, and there the matter 
rested. When the question was agitated, as to the evac- 
uation of the posts, the British, in turn, became refrac- 
tory, and determined to hold them until the acts of the 
state legislatures, preventing the legal collection of debts, 
were repealed. Many remonstrances were exchanged, 
but all to no purpose. 

In the mean time, the Indians were supplied, as usual, 
by the British agents, and if not openly encouraged, were 
undoubtedly secretly countenanced, in their repeated dep 
redations upon the frontier inhabitants. These, at length 
became so serious, as to demand the notice of government. 
Accordingly, in the autumn of 1790, General Harmei 
was detached at the head of three hundred regular troops, 
and more than one thousand militia, with orders to march 
upon their towns bordering upon the lakes, and inflict upon 
them such signal chastisement as should deter them from 
future depredations. On the 20th of September, the 
various troops, designed for the expedition, rendezvoused 
at Fort Washington, now Cincinnati, and on the following 
day commenced their march to the Miami villages. The 
country was rough, swampy, and in many places almost 
impassable, so that seventeen days were consumed before 
the main body could come within striking distance of the 
enemy. In the mean time, the great scarcity of provis 
ions rendered it necessary for the general to sweep the 
forest with numerous small detachments, and a!!, the woodai 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN. 241 

gwarmed with roving bands of Indians, most of these 
parties were cut off. 

At length, the main body, considerably reduced by this 
petty warfare, came within a few miles of their towns. 
Here the general ordered Captain Armstrong, at the head 
of thirty regulars, and Colonel Hardin of Kentucky, with 
one hundred and fifty militia, to advance and reconnoiter. 
In the execution of this order they suddenly found them 
selves in the presence of a superior number of Indians 
who suddenly arose from the bushes and opened a heavy 
fire upon them. The militia instantly gave way, while 
the regulars, accustomed to more orderly movements, 
attempted a regular retreat. The enemy rushed upon 
them tomahawk in hand, and completely surrounded them. 
The regulars attempted to open a passage with the 
bayonet, but in vain. They were all destroyed with the 
exception of their captain and one Lieutenant. 

Captain Armstrong was remarkably stout and active, 
and succeeded in breaking through the enemy's line, 
although not without receiving several severe wounds. 
Finding himself hard pressed, he plunged into a deep and 
miry swamp, where he lay concealed during the whole 
night within two hundred yards of the Indian camp, and 
witnessed the dances and joyous festivity with which they 
celebrated their victory. The lieutenant (Haitshorn,) 
escaped by accidentally stumbling over a log, and falling 
into a pit, where he lay concealed by the rank grass 
which grew around him. The loss of the militia was very 
trifling. Notwithstanding this severe check, Harmer ad- 
vanced with the main body upon their villages, which he 
found deserted and in flames, the Indians having fired 
them with their own hands. Here he found several hun- 
dred acres of corn, which was completely destroyed. He 
then advanced upon the adjoining villages, which he 
found deserted and burned as the first had been. Having 
destroyed all the corn which he found, the araiy com- 
menced its retreat from the Indian country, supposing the 
enemy sufficiently intimidated. 

After marching about ten miles on the homeward 
route, General Harmer rece ved information which indu- 



242 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ced him to suppose that a body of Indians had returned 
and taken possession of the village which he had just 
left. He detached, therefore, eighty regular troops under 
the orders of Major Wyilys, and nearly the whole of his 
militia under Colonel Harden, with orders to return to the 
village and destroy such of the enemy as presented them- 
selves. The detachment accordingly countermarched 
and proceeded with ail possible despatch to the appointed 
spot, fearful only that the enemy might hear of their 
movement and escape before they could come up. The 
militia in loose order took the advance; the regulars 
moving in a hollow square brought up the rear. Upon 
the plain in front of the town, a number of Indians were 
seen, between whom and the militia a sharp action com- 
menced. After a few rounds, v/ith considerable effect 
upon both sides, the savages fled in disorder, and v/ere 
eagerly and impetuously pursued by the militia, who in 
the ardor of the chase were drawn into the woods to a 
considerable distance from the regulars. 

Suddenly from the opposite quarter several hundred 
Indians appeared, rushing with loud yells upon the unsup- 
ported regulars. Major Wyilys, who was a brave and 
experienced ofiicer, formed his men in a square, and en- 
deavored to gain a more favorable spot of ground, but 
was prevented by the desperate impetuosity with which 
the enemy assailed him. Unchecked by the murderous 
fire which was poured upon them from the different sides 
of the square, ^they rushed in masses up to the points of 
the bayonets, hurled their tomahawks with fatal accuracy, 
and putting aside the bayonets with their hands, or clog- 
ging them with their bodies, they were quickly mingled 
with the troops, and handled their long knives with des- 
tructive effect. In two minutes the bloody struggle was 
over. Major Wyilys fell, together with seventy-three 
privates and one lieutenant. One captain, one ensign, 
and seven privates, three of whom were wounded, were 
the sole survivors of this short but desperate encounter. 

The Indian loss was nearly equal, as they sustained 
several heavy fires which the closeness of their masses 
rendered very destructive^ and as they rushed upon the 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN . 243 

bayonets of the troops with the most astonishing disregard 
to their own safety. Their object was to overwhelm the 
regulars before the militia could return to their support, 
and it was as boldly executed as it had been finely con- 
ceived. In a short time the militia returned from the 
pursuit of the flying party which had decoyed them to a 
distance; but it was now too late to retrieve the fortune 
of the day. After some sharp skirmishing, they effected 
their retreat to the main body, with the loss of one hun- 
dred and eight killed and twenty-eight wounded. This 
dreadful slaughter so reduced the strength and spirits of 
Harmer's army, that he was happy in being permitted to 
letreat unmolested, having totally failed in accomplishing 
the objects of the expedition, and by obstinately persever- 
ing in the ruinous plan of acting in dete.chments, having 
thrown away the lives of more than half of his regular 
force. This abortive expedition served only to encourage 
the enemy, and to give addi»tional rancor to their incursions. 

Before detailing the important events which followed, 
however, we shall pause for a few moments to dwell upon 
the singular adventure of an individual who attended 
Harmer in his expedition. Jackson Johonnet was born 
in Connecticut in May, 1774. His father v/as a farmer, 
and managed, upon a very small and by no means fertile 
farm, to bring up a large family with credit and decency. 
Jackson, the eldest son, at the age of sixteen, became de- 
sirous of engaging in some business upon his own account, 
and as his father could well spare his labor upon the farm, 
he took leave of his family in the spring of 1790, and em- 
barked on board of a coasting schooner for Boston. Hav 
ing arrived in this large city, and for the first time in his 
life finding himself witho'Jt friends, money, or employment 
of any kind, he began to entertain some uncomfortable ap- 
prehensions of want. After wandering through the streets 
for several days, with a very disconsolate air, he was at 
length accosted by a dexterous recruiting officer, v/ho see- 
ing him to be a perfect greenhorn, determined to enlist 
him if he could. 

Accosting him with great frankness, he soon became 
acquainted with his real condition, and after some prelim- 



244 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

inary observations upon the gaiety, recklessness, and 
happiness of a soldier's life, he proposed that he should 
enlist in his company, and march out to the west, assuring 
him that if he was active and diligent, he would make an 
immense fortune in one year. Jackson at first shrunk 
from the idea of " enlisting," but his imagination became 
gradually heated at the glowing description of the fertility 
of the western country, and the facility with which land 
could be acquired to any extent by a successful soldier. 
He finally promised him a sergeant's commission on the 
spot, and held out to him the prospect of a lieutenancy in 
case of good behavior. Jackson at length yielded to the 
eloquence of this modern Kite, and in a few days found 
nimself on the road to Pittsburgh, and highly charmed 
with his martial appearance, when arrayed in the uniform 
of his corps. 

Embarking on board of a flat boat at Pittsburgh, he des- 
cended the Ohio as far as Fort Washington, (Cincinnati,) 
where he found his regiment preparing to accompany Har- 
mer. A few days after his arrival, the march commenced. 
Here he, f6r the first time, awoke from the pleasant dream 
in which he had indulged. He had thought that war was 
a succession of battles and triumphs, leading naturally to 
wealth and glory. Splendid uniforms, gay music, waving 
plumes, and showy parades, had floated in splendid confu- 
sion before his fancy, until the march commenced. He 
now found that war was made up of dreadful fatigue, con- 
stant exposure to all weather, hard words and harder 
blows from his superiors, and the whole crowned by the 
constant gnawings of hunger without the means of satis- 
fying it. 

On the tenth day of their march, (having been promot- 
ed to the rank of sergeant,) he was detached upon an ex 
ploring expedition, at the head of ten regular soldiers 
Being all equally ignorant of Indian warfare, they were 
quickly decoyed into an ambuscade, and made prisoners 
by a party of Kickapoo Indians. Having been bound and 
secured in the usual manner, they were driven before the 
captors like a herd of bullocks, and with scarcely a morsel 
of food, were forced to make the most exhausting marches 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN 24& 

in the direction of the Kickapoo village. On th© second 
day, George Aikins, one of his companions, a native of 
Ii'eland, was unable to endure his sufferings any longer, 
and sunk under his pack in the middle of the path. They 
instantly scalped him as he lay, and stripping him naked, 
pricked him with their knives in the most sensitive parts 
of the body, until they had aroused him to a consciousness 
of his situation, when they tortured him to death in the 
usual manner. 

The march then recommenced, and the wretched pris- 
oners, faint and famished as they were, were so shocked 
at the fate of their companion, that they bore up for eight 
days under all their sufferings. On the ninth, however, 
they reached a small village, where crowds of both sexes 
came out to meet them, with shrieks and yells, which fill- 
ed them with terror. Here they were compelled, as usual, 
to run the gauntlet, and as they were much worn down by 
hunger and fatigue, four of the party, viz: Durgee, For* 
sythe, Deloy, and Benton, all of New England, were una- 
ble to reach the council house, but fainted in the midst of 
the course. The boys and squaws instantly fell upon 
them, and put them to death by torture. 

Here they remained in close confinement, and upon 
very scanty diet for several days, in the course of which 
the news of Harmer's defeat arrived. Piles of scalps, 
together with canteens, sashes, military hats, &c. were 
brought into the village, and several white women and 
children were taken through the town on their way to 
the villages farther west. At the same time, four more 
of his companions were led off to the western villages, 
and never heard of afterwards. Himself and a corporal, 
named Sackville, were now the only survivors. They 
remained in close confinement two weeks longer. Their 
rations were barely sufficient to sustain life, and upon the 
receipt of any unpleasant intelligence, they were takeu 
out, whipped severely, and compelled to run the gauntlet. 

At length, on the fourteenth night of their confinement, 
they determined to make an effort to escape. Sackville 
had concealed a sharp penknife in a secret pocket, which 
the Indians had been unable to discover. They were 



$46 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

guarded by four warriors and one old hag of seventy, 
whose temper was as crooked as her person. The prison- 
ers having been securely bound, the warriors lay down 
about midnight to sleep, ordering the old squaw to sit up 
during the rest of the night. Their guns stood in the 
corner of the hut, and their tomahawks, as usual, were at- 
tached to their sides. Their hopes of escape were founded 
upon the probability of eluding the vigilance of the hag, 
cutting their cords, and either avoiding or destroying their 
guard. The snoring of the warriors quickly announced 
them asleep, and the old squaw hung in a drowsy attitude 
over the fire. Sackville cautiously cut his own cords, 
and after a few minutes delay, succeeded in performing 
the same office for Jackson. 

But their work was scarcely begun yet. It was abso- 
lutely necessary that the old squaw should fall asleep, of 
be silenced in some other way! before they could either 
leave the hut, or attack the sleeping warriors. They 
waited impatiently for half an hour, but perceiving that 
although occasionally dozing, she would rouse herself at 
short intervals, and regard them suspiciously, they ex- 
changed looks of intelligence, (being afraid even to whis- 
per,) and prepared for the decisive effort. Jackson sud- 
denly sprung up as silently as possible, and grasping tho 
old woman by the throat, drew her head back with vio 
lence, when Sackville, who had watched his movements 
attentively, instantly cut her throat from ear to ear. A 
short gurgling moan was the only sound which escaped 
her, as the violence with which Jackson grasped her 
throat, effectually prevented her speaking. 

The sleepers were not awakened, although they appear* 
ed somewhat disturbed at the noise, and the two adven- 
turers, seizing each a rifle, struck at the same moment 
with such fury as to disable two of their enemies, Th^ 
other two instantly sprung to their feet, but before they 
could draw their tomahawks or give the alarm, they were 
prostrated by the blows of the white men, who attacked 
them at the momeivt that they had gained their feet* 
Their enemies, although stunned, were not yet dead 
They drew their tomahawks from their sides, therefore, 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN. 247 

and striking each Indian repeatedly upon the head, com- 
pleted the work by piercing the heart of each with his 
own scalping knife. Selecting two rifles from the corner, 
together with their usual appendages, and taking such pro- 
visions as the hut afforded, they left the village as rapidly 
as possible, and fervently invoking the protection of 
heaven, committed themselves to the wilderness. 

Neither of them were good woodsmen, nor were either 
of them expert hunters. They attempted a southeastern 
course, however, as nearly as they could ascertain it, but 
were much embarrassed by the frequent recurrence of 
impassable bogs, which compelled them to change their 
course, and greatly retarded their progress. Knowing 
that the pursuit would be keen and persevering, they re- 
sorted to every method of baffling their enemies. They 
waded down many streams, and occasionally surmounted 
rocky precipices, which, under other circumstances, no- 
thing could have induced them to attempt. Their suffer- 
ings from hunger were excessive, as they were so indif- 
ferently skilled in hunting, as to be unable to kill a suf- 
ficient quantity of game, although the woods abounded 
with deer, beaver, and buffalo. 

On the fourth day, about 10 o'clock, A. M. they came 
to a fine spring, where they halted and determined to pre- 
pare their breakfast. Before kindling a fire, however, 
Sackville, either upon some vague suspicion of the prox- 
imity of an enemy, or from some other cause, thought 
proper to ascend an adjoining hillock and reconnoiter the 
ground around the spring. No measure was ever more 
providential. Jackson presently beheld him returning 
cautiously and silently to the spring, and being satisfied 
from his manner that danger was at hand, he held his rifle 
in readiness for action at a moment's warning. Sackville 
presently rejoined him with a countenance in which anxi- 
ety and resolution were strikingly blended. Jackson ea- 
gerly inquired the cause of his alarm. His companion, in 
a low voice, replied that they were within one hundred 
yards of four Indian warriors, who were reposing upon the 
bank of the little rivulet on the other side of the hillocli. 
That they were about kindling a fii*e in order to prepare 



248 WESIERP^ ADVENTURE. 

their breakfast, and that two white men lay bound hand 
and foot within twenty feet of them. 

He added that they were evidently prisoners, exposed 
to the same dreadful fate which they hsid just escaped; and 
concluded by declaring, that if Jackson would stand by 
him faithfully, he was determined to rescue them or perish 
in the attempt, Jackson gave him his hand and express- 
ed his readiness to accompany him. Sackville then looked 
carefully to the priming of his gun, loosened his knife in 
the sheath, and desired Jackson to follow him, without 
making the slightest noise. They, accordingly, moved in 
a stooping posture up a small and bushy ravine, which 
conducted them to the top of the gentle hill. When near 
the summit, they threw themselves flat upon the ground, 
and crawled into a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes, 
from which they had a fair view of the enemy. The In- 
dians had not changed their position, but one of the white 
men was sitting up, and displayed the countenance of a 
young man, apparently about twenty-five, pale, haggard, 
and exhausted. Two Indians, with uplifted tomahawks,; 
sat within three feet of him. One lay at full length upon 
the ground, while the remaining one was in the act of 
lighting a fire. 

Sackville cocked his gun, and in a low voice directed 
Jackson to fire at one of the guards who, from the quan- 
tity of beads and silver about his head, appeared to be a 
chief, while he selected the other guard for a mark. Each 
presented at the same moment, took a steady aim and 
fired. Both Indians fell — the chief shot dead, the other 
mortally wounded. The other two Indians squatted in 
the grass like terrified partridges, when the hawk hovers 
over them, and lay still and motionless. Sackville and 
Jackson reloaded their guns as rapidly as possible, and 
shifted their position a few paces in order to obtain a bet 
ter view of the enemy. In the mean time the two Indians 
cautiously elevated their heads above the grass, and glanc- 
ed rapidly around in order to observe from what quarter 
the fatal shots were discharged. The thin wreaths of 
smoke which curled above the bushes where our adven- 
turers lay, betrayed their hiding place to the enemy 



NORTHWESTERN CAMPAIGN- 249 

Before they could take advantage of it, however, they 
were ready to fire again, and this second volley proved 
fatal to one of their enemies who lay without motion, but 
the other was only slightly wounded, and endeavored to 
reach the bushes upon the opposite side of the brook. 

Sackville and Jackson now sprung to their feet and 
rushed upon him, but the desperate savage shot Sackville 
through the heart as he advanced, and flourished his toma- 
hawk so menacingly at Jackson, that he was compelled to 
pause and reload his gun. The savage seized this oppor- 
tunity to grasp the two rifles belonging to the Indians who 
had been first krlled, and Jackson in consequence was 
compelled to retreat to the friendly shelter of the bushes, 
which he had too hastily abandoned. At this instant, the 
two prisoners having burst the cords which confined them, 
sprung to their feet and ran towards the bushes for pro- 
tection. Before they could reach them, however, the 
Indian shot one dead, and fired his last gun at the other 
but without effect. Jackson having reloaded again fired 
upon their desperate enemy and wounded him in the neck 
from which he could see the blood spouting in a stream. 
Nothing daunted, the Indian rapidly reloaded his gun and 
again fired without effect. 

The prisoner who had escaped, now seized Sackville's 
gun and he and Johonnet having reloaded, once more lefit 
the bushes and advanced upon their wounded enemy. The 
savage, although much exhausted from loss of blood, sat 
up at their approach and flourishing a tomahawk in each 
hand seemed at least determined to die game. Johonnet 
was anxious to take him alive, but was prevented by his 
companion who levelling his gun as he advanced shot his 
adversary through the head, and thus put an end to the 
conflict. It was a melancholy victory to the survivors, 
Johonnet had lost his gallant comrade, and the rescued 
white man had to lament the death of his fellow captive. 
The last Indian had certainly inflicted a heavy penalty 
upon his enemies, and died amply revenged. The rescu- 
ed prisoner proved to be George Sexton, of Newport, 
Rhode Island, a private in Harmer's army. 

Fortunately for Johonnet, his new comrade was an ex- 



250 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

cellent woodsman, and very readily informed his delivers 
of their present situation, and of the proper course to steen 
He said that, in company with three others he had been 
taken by a party of Wabash Indians, in the neighborhood 
of Fort Jefferson ; that two of his comrades having sunk 
under their sufferings, had been tomahawked and scalped 
upon the spot; that himself and his dead companion had 
been in hourly expectation of a similar fate ; and conclude 
ed, with the warmest expressions of gratitude for the gal- 
lantry with which he had been rescued. So lively, indeed^ 
was his sense of obligation, that he would not permit Jack- 
son to carry his own baggage, nor would he suffer him to 
watch more than three hours in the twenty-four. On the 
following day, they fortunately fell in with a small de- 
tachment from Fort Jefferson, by which they were safely 
conducted to the fort. Here Jackson remained until sum- 
moned to attend St. Clair, in his disastrous expedition 
against the same Miami villages where he had lately 
suffered so much. 



CHAPTER Xm. 

We now come to one of the heaviest disasters wnich 
occurs in the annals of Indian warfare. The failure of 
Harmer made a deep impression upon the American na- 
tion, and was followed by a loud demand for a greater 
force, under the command of a more experienced general. 
General Arthur St. Clair was, at that time, governor 
of the northwestern territory, and had a claim to the 
command of such forces as should be employed within his 
own limits. This gentleman had uniformly ranked high 
as an officer of courage and patriotism, but had been more 
uniformly unfortunate than any other officer in the Ameri- 
can service. He had commanded at Ticonderoga in the 
spring of 1777, and had conducted one of the most disas- 
trous retreats which occurred during the revolutionary 
war. Notwithstanding his repeated misfortunes, he stiU 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 251 

commanded the respect of his brother officers, and the un- 
diminished confidence of Washington. He was now se- 
lected as the person most capable of restoring the Ameri- 
can affairs in the North West, and was placed at the head 
of a regular force, amounting to near fifteen hundred 
men, well furnished with artillery, and was empowered to 
call out such reinforcements of militia as might be neces- 
sary. Cincinnati, as usual, was the place of rendezvous. 

In October, 1791, an army was assembled at that place, 
greatly superior, in numbers, officers, and equipments, to 
any which had yet appeared in the west. The regular 
force was composed of three complete regiments of infan- 
try, two companies of artillery, and one of cavalry. The 
militia who joined him at Fort Washington, amounted to 
upwards of six hundred men, most of whom had long been 
accustomed to Indian warfare. The general commenced 
his march from Cincinnati on the of October, and fol- 
lowing the route of Harmer, arrived at Fort Jefferson 
without material loss, although not without having sus- 
tained much inconvenience from scarcity of provisions. 
The Kentucky rangers, amounting to upwards oftwo hun- 
dred men, had encountered several small parties of Indians, 
but no serious afiair had as yet taken place. Shortly af- 
ter leaving Fort Jefferson, one of the militia regiments, 
with their usual disregard to discipline, determined that it 
was inexpedient to proceed farther, and detaching them- 
selves from the m.ain body, returned rapidly to the fort on 
their way home. This ill-timed mutiny, not only discour- 
aged the remainder, but compelled the general to detach 
the first regiment in pursuit of them, if not to bring them 
back, at least to prevent them from injuring the stores, 
collected at the fort for the use of the army. With the 
remainder of the troops, amounting in all to about twelve 
hundred men, he continued his march to the great Miami 
villages. 

On the evening of the 3d of November, he encamped 
upon a very commanding piece of ground, upon the bank 
of one of the tributaries of the Wabash, where he deter 
mined to throw up some slight works for the purpose of 
protecting their knapsacks and baggage, having to move 



252 WESTERN ADVITNTURE. 

upon the Miami villages, supposed to be within twelve 
miles, as soon as the first regiment should rejoin them. The 
remainder of the evening was employed in concerting the 
plan of the proposed work with Major Furguson of the 
engineers, and when the Gentries were posted at night, 
every thing was as quiet as could have been desired. The 
troops were encamped in two lines, with an interval of 
seventy yards between them, which was all that the na- 
ture of the ground would permit. The battalions of Ma- 
jors Butler, Clarke, and Patterson, composed the front 
line, the whole under the orders of Major General Butler, 
an officer of high and merited reputation. The front of 
the line was covered by a creek, its right flank by the 
river, and its left by a strong corps of infantry. The 
second line was composed of the battalions of Majors 
Gaither and Bedinger, and the second regiment under the 
command of Lieutenant Colonel Darke. This line, like 
the other, was secured upon one flank by the river, and 
upon the other by the cavalry and pickets.* The nighi 
passed away without alarm. The sentinels were vigil 
ant,t and the officers upon the alert. 

A few hours before day, St. Clair caused the reveillie 
to be beaten, and the troops to be paraded under arms, 
under the expectation that an attack would probably be 
made. In fliis situation, they continued until daylight, 
when they were dismissed to their tents. Some were en- 
deavoring to snatch a few mmutes' sleep, others were 
preparing for the expected march, when suddenly the re- 
port of a rifle was heard from the militia a few hundred 



* The militia amounting to about two hundred and fifty men, 
were thrown across the creek about three hundred yards in front 
of the first line, and a small detachment of regulars under the orders 
of Captain Slough, were pushed still further in advance, in order to 
prevent the possibility of surprise. 

■f Captain Slough was alarmed in the course of the night by the ap- 
pearance of an unusual number of the enemy in his front and upon 
both flanks. A short time before day they had collected in such num- 
bers as seriously to alann him, and induced him to fall back upon the 
militia. He instantly informed General Butler of the circumstaruce, 
but that officer, unfortunately, slighted the intelligence, and did not 
deem it of sufficient importance to inform the commander-in-chief. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 25S 

yards in front, which was quickly followed by a sharp ir- 
regular volley in the sam« direction. The drums instantly 
beat to arms, the officers flew in every direction, and in 
two minutes the troops were formed in order of battle^ 
Presently the militia rushed into the camp, in the utmost 
disorder, closely pursued by swarms of Indians, who, in 
many places, were mingled with them, and were cutting 
them down with their tomahawks. 

Major Butler's battalion received the first shock, and 
was thrown into disorder by the tumultuous flight of the 
militia, who, in their eagerness to escape, bore down every 
thing before them. Here Major General Butler had sta- 
tioned himself, and here St. Clair directed his attention, 
in order to remedy the confusion which began to spread 
rapidly through the whole line. The Indians pressed for- 
ward with great audacity, and many of them were min- 
gled with the troops, before their progress could bo 
checked. Major General Butler was wounded at the fiist 
fire, and before his wound could be dressed, an Indian 
who had penetrated the ranks of the regiment, ran up to 
the spot where he lay, and tomahawked him before his at- 
tendants could interpose. The desperate savage was in- 
stantly killed. By great exertions, Butler's battalion 
was restored to order, and the heavy and sustained fire of 
the first line compelled the enemy to pause and shelter 
themselves. 

This interval, however, endured but for a moment. An 
invisible but tremendous fire, quickly opened upon the 
whole front of the encampment, which rapidly extended 
to the rear, and encompassed the troops on both sides* 
St. Clair, who at that time, was worn down by a fever, 
and unable to mount his horse, nevertheless, as is univer- 
sally admitted, exerted himself with a courage and pres- 
ence of mind worthy of a better fate. He instantly 
directed his litter to the right of the rear line, where the 
great weight of fire fell, and where the slaughter, par- 
ticularly of the officers, was terrible. Here Darke com- 
manded, an officer who had been trained to hard service, 
during the revolutionary war, and who was now gallantly 
exerting himself to check the consternation which wa« 



254 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

evidently beginning to prevail. St. Clair ordered him to 
make a rapid charge with the bayonet, and rouse the 
enemy from their covert. 

The order was instantly obeyed, and, at first, appa- 
rently with great effect. Swarms of dusky bodies arose 
from the high grass, and fled before the regiment with 
every mark of consternation; but as the troops were una- 
ble to overtake them, they quickly recovered their cour- 
age, and kept up so fatal a retreating fire, that the ex- 
hausted regulars were compelled, in their turn, to give 
way. This charge, however, relieved that particular 
point for some time; but the weight of the fire was trans- 
ferred to the centre of the first line, where it threatened 
to annihilate every thing within its range. There, in 
turn, the unfortunate general was borne by his attendants, 
and ordered a second appeal to the bayonet. Thi« 
second charge was made with the same impetuosity fws a1 
first, and with the same momentary success. Bui th<i 
attack was instantly shifted to another point, where tho 
same charge was made and the same result followed. 
The Indians would retire before them, still keeping up a 
most fatal fire, and the continentals were uniformly com 
polled to retire in turn. St. Glair, brought up the artil- 
lery in order to sweep the bushes with grape, but the 
horses and artillerymen were destroyed by the terrible 
fire of the enemy, before any effect could be produced. 
They were instantly manned afresh from the infantry, 
and again swept of defenders. 

The slaughter had now become prodigious. Pour-fifths 
of the ofiicers and one half of the men were either killed 
or wounded. The ground was covered with bodies, and 
the little ravine which led to the river was running with 
blood. 'The fire of the enemy had not in the least slack- 
ened, and the troops were falling in heaps before it in 
every part of the camp. To have attempted to have 
maintained his position longer, could only have led to 
the total destiiiction of his force, without the possibility 
of annoying the enemy, who never showed themselves, 
unless when charged, and whose numbers (to judge from 
the weight and exteo \ of the fire,) must have greatly 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 255 

exceeded his own. The men were evidently much dis- 
heartened, but the officers, who were chiefly veterans of 
the revolution, still maintained a firm countenance, and 
exerted themselves with unavailing heroism to the last. 
Under these circumstances, St. Clair determined to save 
the lives of the survivors if possible, and for that purpose 
collected the remnants of several battalions into one 
corps, at the head of which he ordered Lieutenant Colo- 
nel Darke to make an impetuous charge upon the enemy, 
in order to open a passage for the remainder of the army. 
Darke executed his orders with great spirit, and drove the 
Indians before him to the distance of a quarter of a mile. 
The remainder of the army instantly rushed through the 
opening, in order to gain the road! Major Clarke, with 
the remnant of his battalion, bringing up the rear, and 
endeavoring to keep the Indians in check.* 

The retreat soon degenerated into a total rout. Offi- 
cers who strove to arrest the panic, only sacrificed them- 
selves. Clarke, the leader of the rear guard, soon fell in 
this dangerous service, and his corps were totally disor- 
ganized. Officers and soldiers were now mingled without 
the slightest regard to discipline, and "devil take the 
hindmost,'^ was the order of the day. The pursuit, at 
first, was keen; but the temptation aflforded by the plun- 
der of the camp, soon brought them back, and the wea- 
ried, wounded, and disheartened fugitives, were permitted 
to retire from the field unmolested. The rout continued 
as far as Fort Jefferson, twenty-nine miles from the scene 
of action. The action lasted more than three hours, during 
the whole of which time, the fire was heavy and incessant. 

The loss, in proportion to the number engaged, was 
enormous, and is unparalleled, except in the afiair of 
Braddock. Sixty-eight officers were killed upon the spot, 
and twenty-eight wounded. Out of nine hundred pri- 
vates who went into action, five hundred and fifty were 



* General St. Clair's horses were killed, as well as those of his aids. 
He was placed by a few friends upon an exhausted packhorse that 
oould not be pricked out of a walk, and in this condition followed in 
the rear of the troops. 



256 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

left dead upon the field, and many of the survivors vi^ere 
wounded. General St. Clair was untouched, although eight 
balls passed through his hat and clothes, and several 
horses were killed under him. The Indian loss was re- 
ported by themselves at fifty-eight killed and wounded, 
which was probably not underrated, as they were never 
visible after the first attack, until charged with the bayo- 
net. At Fort Jefierson, the fugitives were joined by the 
fii'st regiment, who, as noticed above, had been detached 
in pursuit of the deserters. Here a council of war was 
called, which terminated in the unanimous opinion, that 
the junction with the first regiment did not justify an 
attempt upon the enemy in the present condition of af- 
fairs, and that the army should return to Fort Washington 
without delay. This was accordingly done, and thus 
closed the second campaign against the Indians. 

The unfortunate general was, as usual, assailed from 
one end of the country to the other, but particularly in 
Kentucky, with ome loud and merciless outcry of abuse, 
and even detestation. All the misfortunes of his life, 
(and they were many and bitter,) were brought up in array 
against him. He was reproached with cowardice, trea- 
son, imbecility, and a disposition to prolong the war-, in 
order to preserve that authority which it gave him. He 
was charged with sacrificing the lives of his men and 
the interests of his country, to his own private ambition. 
Men, who had never fired a rifle, and never beheld an 
Indian, criticised severely the plan of his encampment 
and the order of his battle; and, in short, all the bitter 
ingredients which compose the cup of the unsuccessful 
ggneral, were drained to the dregs. 

It seems to be a universal, and probably a correct rule, 
that, as the general reaps all the glory of success, so, 
in like manner, he should sustain all the disgrace of defeat. 
A victorious general, whether by a lucky blunder or 
otherwise, is distinguished for life, and an unfortunate 
one degraded. No charge in the one case, or excuse in 
the other, is listened to for a moment. Victory hides 
every blemish, and misfortune obscures every virtue. 
This ig the popular rule for estimating the merits of a lead- 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 357 

er, which, for a time, might elevate a noisy Cleon to the 
level of an Alexander. But the historian decides other- 
wise. Let us look at the unfortunate St. Clair's conduct, 
and see if it deserves the furious and unbounded censur© 
which has been heaped upon it. It is acknowledged, that 
although attacked suddenly, (all Indian attacks are sudden,) 
he was not surprised. His troops were encamped in order 
of battle, and formed in a moment. 

He cannot be charged with remissness, for he had ar- 
rayed them in order of battle three hours before daylight, 
and they had just been dismissed, when the attack com- 
menced. He cannot be charged with incompetency during 
the action, for all his measures, if allowance be made for 
the circumstances attending it, were bold, judicious, and 
military.* He did not suffer his men to be shot down in 
their ranks, as in Braddock's case, but made repeated, 
desperate, and successful charges against the enemy, 
which nothing but their overwhelming superiority of num- 
bers prevented from being decisive. The troops, in gen- 
eral, behaved with firmness, the officers were the flower 
of the old continental army, and not a man deserted his 
colors, until the order was given to retreat. 

The charge of cowardice is unworthy of an answer. 
It could only be brought by a blind and ignoi*ant populace, 
stung with rage, as they ever are, at defeat, and pouring 
upon their unhappy victim, every reproach which rage, 
ignorance, and the malice of interested demagogues may 
suggest. It may be observed, that St. Clair always stood 
high in the opinion of Washington, notwithstanding his 
repeated misfortunes, and that in his last battle, although 
worn down by a cruel disease, he exposed his person in 
every part of the action, delivered his orders with cool- 
ness and judgment, and was one of the last who arrived at 
Fort Jefferson in the retreat. His whole life afterwards 
was one long and wasting struggle with poverty, ref^roach, 
and misfortune. 

When demanding a compensation to which he consider- 
ed himself entitled, before the congress of the United 

* See Appendix I) 



1^58 WESTER!^ ADVENTURE. 

States, a demand to which he had been compelled b} ti< 
stern pressure of want, old age, and decrepitude, he vi^as 
stigmatised by a member of that body as a " pauper!" and 
his claim rejected! Rejected on that same floor where a 
princely present was bestowed on Lafayette, for services 
of the same kind which were refused to be acknowledged 
in the case of the unhappy and really indigent St. Clair. 
In the one case, their generosity would resound through 
the world, and gratify national pride. In the other, it 
would only have been an act of obscure justice ! The • 
official letter of St. Clair, at once temperate, mournful, 
and dignified, is subjoined in the appendix. 

It remains only to mention such private incidents as we 
have been enabled to collect. The late William Kennan, 
of Fleming County, at that time a young man of eighteen, 
was attached to the corps of rangers who accompanied the 
regular force. He had long been remarkable for strength 
and activity. In the course of the march from Fort Wash- 
ington, he had repeated opportunities of testing his aston- 
ishing powers in that respect, and was universally admit- 
ted to be the swiftest runner of the light corps. On the 
evening preceding the action, his corps had been advanc- 
ed, as already observed, a few hundred yards in front of 
the first line of infantry, in order to give seasonable notice 
of the enemy's approach. Just as day was dawning, he 
observed about thirty Indians within one hundred yards 
of the guard fire, advancing cautiously towards the spol 
where he stood, together with about twenty rangers, the 
rest being considerably in the rear. 

Supposing it to be a mere scouting party, as usual, and 
not superior in number to the rangers, he sprung forward 
a few paces in order to shelter himself in a spot of peculi- 
arly rank grass, and firing with a quick aim upon the 
foremost Indian, he instantly fell flat upon his face, and 
proceeded with all possible rapidity to reload his gun, not 
doubting for a moment, but that the rangers would main- 
tain their position, and support him. The Indians, how- 
ever, rushed forward in such overwhelming masses, that 
the rangers were compelled to fly with precipitation, leav- 
ing young Kennan in total ignorance of his danger. For- 



WILLIAM KENNAN. 259 

tunately, the captain of his company had observed him 
when he threw himself in the grass, and suddenly shouted 
aloud, " Run Kennan ! or you are a dead man !" He in- 
stantly sprung to his feet, and beheld Indians within tea 
feet of him, while his company was already more than one 
hundred yards in front. 

Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with every 
muscle strained to its utmost, and was pursued by a dozen 
of the enemy with loud yells. He at first pressed straight 
forward to the usual fording place in the creek, which ran 
between the rangers and the main army, but several In- 
dians who had passed him before he arose from the grass, 
threw themselves in the way, and completely cut him off 
from the rest. By the most powerful exertions, he had 
thrown the whole body of pursuers behind him, with the 
exception of one young chief, (probably Messhawa,) who 
displayed a swiftness and perseverance equal to his own* 
In the circuit which Kennan was obliged to take, the race 
continued for more than four hundred yards. The dis- 
tance between them was about eighteen feet, which Ken- 
nan could not increase nor his adversary diminish. Each, 
for the time, put his whole soul into the race. 

Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his eye upon the 
motions of his pursuer, lest he should throw the tomahawk, 
which he held aloft in a menacing attitude, and at length, 
finding that no other Indian was immediately at hand, he 
determined to try the mettle of his pursuer in a different 
manner, and felt for his tomahawk in order to turn at bay. 
It had escaped from its sheath, however, while he lay in 
the grass, and his hair had almost lifted the cap from his 
head, when he saw himself totally disarmed. As he had 
slackened his pace for a moment the Indian was almost 
in reach of ^ him, when he recommenced the race, but the 
idea of being without arms, lent wings to his flight, and 
for the first time, he saw himself gaining ground. He had 
watched the motions of his pursuer too closely, however, 
to pay proper attention to the nature of the ground before 
him, and he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree 
which had been blown down, and upon which brush and 
other impediments lay to the height of eight or nine feet. 



260 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

The Indian (who heretofore had not uttered the slightest 
sound) now gave a short quidc yell, as if secure of his vio 
tim. Kennan had not a moment to deliberate. He must 
clear the impediment at a leap or perish. Putting his 
whole soul into the effort, he bounded into the air with a 
power which astonished himself, and clearing limbs, brush, 
and every thing else, alighted in perfect safety upon the 
other side. A loud yell of astonishment burst from the 
band of pursuers, not one of whom had the hardihood to at- 
tempt the same feat. Kennan, as may be readily imagined, 
had no leisure to enjoy his triumph, but dashing into the 
bed of the creek (upon the banks of which his feat had 
been performed) wnere the high banks would shield him 
from the fire of the enemy, he ran up the stream until a 
convenient place offered for crossing, and rejoined the 
rangers in the rear of the encampment, panting from the 
fatigue of exertions which have seldom been surpassed. 
No breathing time was allowed him, however. The attack 
instantly commenced, and as we have already observed, 
was maintained for three hours, with unabated fury. 

When the retreat commenced, Kennan was attached to 
Major Clarke's battalion, and had the dangerous service of 
protecting the rear. This corps quickly lost its command- 
er, and was completely disorganized. Kennan was among 
the hindmost when the flight commenced, but exerting 
those same powers which had saved him in the morning, 
he quickly gained the front, passing several horsemen in 
the flight. Here he beheld a private in his own company, 
an intimate acquaintance, lying upon the ground, with his 
thigh broken, and in tones of the most piercing distress, 
implored each horseman who hurried by to take him up 
behind him. As soon as he beheld Kennan coming up on 
foot, he stretched out his arms, and called loud upon him to 
save him. Notwithstanding the imminent peril of the mo 
ment, his friend could not reject so passionate an appeal 
but seizing him in his arms, he placed him upon his back 
and ran in that manner for several hundred yards. Horse • 
man after horseman passed them, all of whom refused to 
relieve him of his burden. 

At length the enemy was gaining upon him so fast, that 



WILLIAM KENNAN, 261 

Kennan saw their death certain, unless he relinquished 
his burden. He accordingly told his friend, that he had 
used every possible exertion to save his life, but in vain; 
that he must relax his hold around his neck or they would 
both perish. The unhappy wretch, heedless of every re- 
monstrance, still clung convulsively to his back, and im- 
peded his exertions until the foremost of the enemy (armed 
with tomahawks alone,) were within twenty yards of them. 
Kennan then drew his knife from its sheath and cut the 
fingers of his companion, thus compelling him to relinquish 
his hold. The unhappy man rolled upon the ground in 
utter helplessness, and Kennan beheld him tomahawked 
before he had gone thirty yards. Relieved from his bur- 
den, he darted forward with an activity which once more 
brought him to the van. Here again he was compelled to 
neglect his own safety in order to attend to that of others. 

The late Governor Madison, of Kentucky, who after- 
wards commanded the corps which defended themselves so 
honorably at Raisin, a man who united the most amiable 
temper to the most unconquerable courage, was at that 
time a subaltern in St. Clair's army, and being a man of 
infirm constitution, was totally exhausted by the exertions 
of the morning, and was now sitting down calmly upon a 
log, awaiting the approach of his enemies. Kennan hasti- 
ly accosted him, and inquired the cause of his delay. Ma- 
dison, pointing to a wound which had bled profusely, re- 
plied that he was unable to walk further, and had no horse. 
Kennan instantly ran back to a spot where he had seen an 
exhausted horse grazing, caught him without difficulty, and 
having assisted Madison to mount, walked by his side until 
they were out of danger. Fortunately, the pursuit soon 
ceased, as the plunder of the camp presented irresistible 
attractions to the enemy. The friendship thus formed be- 
tween these two young men, endured without interrup- 
tion through life. Mr. Kennan never entirely recovered 
from the immense exertions which he was compelled to 
make during this unfortunate expedition. He settled in 
Fleming county, and continued for many years a leading 
member of the Baptist church. He died in 1827. 

A party of Chickasaws were on their march to join St. 



262 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Clair, but did not arrive in time to share in the action 
One warrior of that nation, alone, was present, and dis- 
played the most admirable address and activity. He pos- 
itively refused to stand in the ranks with the soldiers, 
declaring that the " Shawnees would shoot him down like a 
wild pigeon ;" but took refuge behind a log, a few yards 
in front of Butler's battalion, and discharged his rifle eleven 
times at the enemy with unerring accuracy. He could 
not be persuaded, however, to forego the pleasure of scalp- 
ing each Indian as he fell, and in performing this agreeable 
office he at length was shot down by the enemy and scalped 
in turn. 

The leader of the Indian army in this bloody engage- 
ment, was a chief of the Missassago tribe, known by the 
name of the "Little Turtle." Notwithstanding his name, 
he was at least six feet high, strong, muscular, and remark- 
ably dignified in his appearance. He was forty years of 
age, had seen much service, and had accompanied Bur- 
goyne in his disastrous invasion. His aspect was harsh, 
sour and forbidding, and his person during the action, was 
arrayed in the very extremity of Indian foppery, having at 
least twenty dollars worth of silver depending from his 
nose and ears. The plan of attack was conceived by him 
alone, in opposition to the opinion of almost every other 
chief. Notwithstanding his ability, however, he was said 
to have been unpopular among the Indians, probably in 
consequence of those very abilities. 

Many veteran oflicers of inferior rank, who had served 
with distinction throughout the revolutionary war, were 
destined to perish in this unhappy action. Among them 
was the gallant and unrewarded Captain Kirkwood, of the 
old Delaware line, so often and so honorably mentioned in 
Lee's Memoirs. The state of Delaware having had but 
one regiment on continental establishment, and that regi- 
ment having been reduced to a company at Camden, it was 
impossible for Kirkwood to be promoted without a violation 
of the ordinary rules, by which commissions were regulated. 
He accordingly, had the mortification of beholding junior 
officers daily mounting above him in the scale of rank, 
while he himself, however meritorious, was compelled to 



LIEUTENANT COLONEL DARKE. 253 

remain in his present condition, on account of the small 
force which his native state could bring into the field. 

Notwithstanding this constant source of mortification, 
he fought with distinguished gallantry, throughout thenar, 
and was personally engaged in the battles of Camden, 
Guilford, Hobkirks, Ninety-six and Eutaw, the hottest and 
bloodiest which occurred during the revolution. At the 
peace of 1783, he returned with a broken fortune, but a 
high reputation for courage, honor, and probity, and upon 
the re-appearance of war in the north-west, he hastened 
once more to the scene of action, and submitted, without 
reluctance, to the command of officers who had been boys 
while he was fighting those severe battles in the south. 
He fell in a brave attempt to repel the enemy with the 
bayonet, and thus closed a career as honorable as it was 
unrewarded. 

Lieutenant Colonel Darke's escape, was almost miracu- 
lous. Possessed of a tall, striking figure, in full uniform, 
and superbly mounted, he headed three desperate charges 
against the enemy, in each of which he was a conspicuous 
mark. His clothes were cut in many places, but he es- 
caped with only a slight flesh wound. In the last charge, 
Ensign Wilson, a youth of seventeen, was shot through 
the heart, and f©ll a few paces in the rear of the regiment, 
which was then rather rapidly returning to their original 
position. An Indian, attracted by his rich uniform, sprung 
up from the grass, and rushed forward to scalp him. Darke, 
who was at that time in the rear of his regiment, suddenly 
faced about, dashed at the Indian on horseback, and cleft 
his skull with his broad sword, drawing upon himself by the 
act, a rapid discharge of more than a dozen rifles. He re- 
joined his regiment, however, in safety, being compelled 
to leave the body of young Wilson to the enemy. On the 
evening of the 8th of November, the broken remains of 
the army arrived at Fort Washington, and were placed in 
winter quarters. 



904 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Amidst the almost universal clamor which arose upon 
the defeat of the unfortunate St. Clair, Geneml Washing- 
ton himself did not entirely escape censure. The ap- 
f)ointment of an old, infirm, and above all, an unlucky 
general to a command, which above all other qualities, re- 
quired activity, promptitude, and the power of sustaining 
great fatigue, was reprobated in no measured terms. Pub- 
lic opinion imperiously demanded a better selection for the 
third offensive campaign, and St. Clair was necessarily 
superseded. The choice of a proper successor became 
the theme of general discussion, and was a matter of no 
small difficulty. The command was eagerly sought by 
many officers of the revolution, among whom the most 
prominent were General Wayne of Pennsylvania, and the 
late General Henry Lee, of Virginia, the celebrated com- 
mandant of the Partisan legion during the war of Inde- 
pendence. 

The peculiar fitness of Lee for a command of that kind, 
seems to have impressed itself strongly upon the mind of 
Washington, and there is a letter extant, which shows, 
that nothing but the discontent, which the appointment of 
so young an officer, would naturally have excited in the 
minds of those who had held a rank above him in the for- 
mer war, could have prevented his being the successor of 
St. Clair. This objection did not apply to Wayne, and as 
he had repeatedly proved himself a bold, active, and 
energetic commander, his appointment was unacceptable 
to those only whose claims had been rejected — a descrip- 
tion of men very difficult to be pleased. Wayne had en- 
tered the army, as colonel of a regiment in the Pennsyl- 
vania line, and first attracted notice in the Canadian ex- 
pedition. He there displayed so keen a relish for battle 
upon all occasions, and upon any terms, exposed his own 
life as well as those of his men with such reckless- 
»©ss, and was in the habit of swearing so hard in the hea4 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 265 

of battle, that he soon obtained, among the common sol- 
diers, the nickname of " Mad Anthony." 

He never enjoyed a high reputation as an officer of 
prudence, science, and combination; and on one occasion, 
particularly, was surprised by the celebrated English par- 
tisan. Grey, and routed with a slaughter scarcely inferior 
to that of St. Clair. As an executive officer, however, he 
was incomparable. He seemed to be of opinion, that the 
whole science of war consisted in giving and taking hard 
blows; and we have heard from one who served under 
him many years, that his favorite word of command was 
"Charge the d— — d rascals with the bayonet." When* 
ever (as at Stony Point,) a bold, brisk onset was all that 
was required, no better general than Wayne could possi- 
bly be selected, but on other occasions, his keen appetite 
for action was apt to hurry him into an imprudent expo- 
sure of his troops. 

In Virginia, he once narrowly escaped total destruc- 
tion, by pressing too eagerly upon Lord Cornwallis, who 
afterwards repeatedly affirmed, that one half hour more of 
daylight would have sufficed for the destruction of his rash 
but gallant enemy; and afterwards in the Carolinas, his 
quarters were broken up, and his whole camp thrown into 
confusion by a small party of Creek Indians, who fell upon 
him as unexpectedly as if they had risen from the earth. 
Several severe losses, however, which he received in the 
course of his career, had taught him to temper his cour- 
age with a moderate degree of caution, and as he was re- 
markably popular among the common soldiers, (who are 
better judges of the ordinary quality of courage than the 
higher military talents,) he was supposed to be peculiarly 
qualified for re-animating the cowering spirits of the 
troops. 

There was an interval of more than a year between the 
defeat of St. Clair, and the appointment of his successor. 
Wayne lost no time in proceeding to the head quarters of 
the western army, and arrived at Fort Washington in the 
spring of 1793. Reinforcements of regular troops were 
constantly arriving, and in addition to the usual comple- 
ment of cavalry and artillery, a strong legionary corps 



266 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

was raised upon continental establishment, and placed un- 
der his command. In addition to this, he was authorized 
to call upon the governor of Kentucky, (Shelby,) for as 
many mounted militia as might be necessary. It was so 
late in the season, however, before all the various forces 
could be collected, and all the necessary supplies procured, 
that he judged it prudent to defer any offensive movement 
until the spring. 

The mounted volunteers were accordingly dismissed 
with some flattering encomiums upon their zeal and readi- 
ness, while the regular forces were placed in winter 
quarters. The volunteers returned to Kentucky with a 
high idea of the efficiency of the regular force under 
Wayne, and sanguine expectations of a favorable result. 
The rapid succesfeion of disasters which had heretofore at- 
tended the operations of regulars in conjunction with mi* 
litia, had created a strong disgust to that species of force, 
and it was with difficulty that a sufficient number of mounted 
men could be procured for co-operation. But after witness- 
ing the order, diligence, and energy which characterized 
Wayne's conduct as an officer, and the indefatigable labor 
with which he drilled his troops into a ready performance 
of the necessary movements, this disrelish to a co-operation 
with regulars completely vanished, and on the following 
spring, the volunteers proffered their services with great 
alacrity. 

During the winter, Wayne remained at a fort which he 
had built upon a western fork of the little Miami, and to 
which he had given the name of Greenville. By detach- 
ments from the regular troops he was enabled to sweep 
the country lying between him and the Miami villages, 
and having taken possession of the ground upon which St. 
Clair was defeated, he erected a small fort upon it, to which 
he gave the name of Recovery. His orders were positive, 
to endeavor, if possible, to procure peace upon reasonable 
terms, without resorting to force, and he accordingly opened 
several conferences with the hostile tribes during the 
winter. 

Many of their chiefs visited him in his camp, and ex- 
?.mined his troops, artillery, and equipments with great at- 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 267 

tention, and from time to time made ample professions of a 
disposition to bury the hatchet; but nothing definite could 
be drawn from them, and from the known partiality of 
Wayne to the decision of the sword, could it be supposed 
that he pressed the overtures with much eagerness. Aa 
the spring approached, the visits of the Indians became 
more rare, and their professions of friendship waxed 
fainter. In February, they threw aside the mask at once, 
and made a bold effort to carry the distant outpost at Fort 
Recovery by a coup-de-main. In this, however, they were 
frustrated by the vigilance and energy of the garrison; 
and finding that Wayne was neither to be surprised nor 
deceived, they employed themselves in collecting their ut- 
most strength, with a determination to abide the brunt of 
battle. 

In the spring, the general called upon the governor of 
Kentucky for a detachment of mounted men, who repaired 
with great alacrity to his standard, in two brigades under 
Todd and Barbee, the whole commanded by Major Gener- 
al Scott, amounting to more than fifteen hundred men, ac- 
customed to Indian warfare. The regular force including 
cavalry and artillery, amounted to about two thousand, so 
that the general found himself at the head of three thou- 
sand men, well provided with every thing, in high spirits 
and eager for battle. The Indian force did not exceed 
two thousand, and was known to have assembled in the 
neighborhood of the British fort at the rapids of the Mi- 
ami. 

It was late in July, before Wayne was ready to march 
from Greenville, and from the nature of the country, as 
well as the necessity of guarding against surprise, his 
progress was very leisurely. On the 19th of August, 
when within a day's march of the enemy's position, he 
determined to send a messenger, charged with the last 
offer of peace and friendship, which he intended to make. 
For this dangerous, and apparently useless office, he se- 
lected a private volunteer, named Miller, who had for- 
merly been taken by the Indians, and lived for many 
years upon the banks of the Miami. Miller, however, 
appeared to value bis own neck much more highly than 



968 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the general did, as he stoutly remonstrated against the 
duty, declaring that it would be useless to the army, as 
well as destructive to himself. 

He declared, confidently, that the Indians, from many 
undoubted signs, were resolutely bent upon battle, and 
would listen to nothing of which he might be the bearer. 
He added, that he knew them of old, and was satisfied 
that they would roast him alive, without an instant's hes- 
itation, in defiance of his white flag, and sacred character 
of ambassador. Wayne, however, was not to be diverted 
from his purpose. He assured Miller that he would hold 
eight or ten Indians then in his camp, as hostages for his 
safe return, and if the enemy roasted him, he swore that 
a noble hecatomb should be ofiered to his manes, as he 
would compel all his prisoners to undergo the same fate ; 
but concluded with an assurance that the Indians, when 
informed of his determination, would dismiss him in per- 
fect safety, for a regard to the lives of their friends. 

Reluctantly, and with many dark prophecies of the fate 
which awaited him, he at length consented to go upon the 
mission, and having taken leave of his friends, he set oflf 
at a rapid pace for the Indian camp. When within view 
of it, he hoisted a white flag upon a pole and marched 
boldly forward, knowing that in this, as in most other 
cases, the boldest is the safest course. As soon as they 
beheld him approaching, they ran out to meet him with 
loud yells, brandishing their tomahawks, and crying out 
in their own language, "Kill the runaway!" Miller^ 
who well understood their language, instantly addresse(? 
them with great earnestness, and in a few words made 
known the cause of his visit, and the guarantee which 
Wayne held for his safe return. To the first part of the 
intelligence they listened with supreme contempt. A 
long conference ensued, in which many chiefs spoke, but 
nothing could be determined upon. 

On the next day, Miller was ordered to return to 
Wayne, with some evasive message, intending to amuse 
him, until they could devise some means of recovering 
their friends. He, accordingly, left them with great rea- 
diness, and was returning with all possible despatch, when 



ANTHONY WAYNE* 209 

he met the general in full march upon the enemy haying 
become tired of waiting for the return of his mesienger- 
Wayne's object in sending Miller, is difficult to be con- 
jectured. The Indians had constantly refused to come 
to any terms. They had sent away their women, and 
given every indication of a disposition to fight, and were 
in possession of ground which would give them immense 
advantages against the regulars. He could scarcely sup- 
pose that a treaty could be effected, nor with the prospect 
of battle before him, which to him, presented all the 
attractions of a ball to a dandy or a dinner to an epicure, 
is it to be supposed that he could have been very desirous 
of such an event. The ground was well known to many 
individuals in the army, and Miller's report could have 
added but little to the knowledge already existing, to say 
nothing of the strong probability, that he might never 
return from a duty so perilous ! The truth is, the old gen- 
eral valued the life of a soldier at an exceedingly low rate, 
and thought that even if the mission brought no advan- 
tage, it was attended with no other danger, than the 
chance of death to a single soldier, which did not deserve 
a moment's thought. 

The general received the report of Miller without de- 
laying his march for a moment, which was continued in 
order of battle, until he arrived within view of the enemy. 
The regular force formed the centre column, one brigade 
of mounted volunteers moved upon the left under General 
Barbee, the other brought up the rear under Brigadier Todd. 
The right flank w ?,s covered by the river, and Major Price, 
with a selected corps of mounted volunteers, was advan- 
ced about five miles in front, with orders to feel the ene- 
my's position, and then fall back upon the main body. 
About noon, the advanced corps received so heavy a fire 
from a concealed enemy, as to compel it to retire with pre- 
cipitation. The heads of the columns quickly reached 
the hostile ground, and had a view of the enemy. The 
ground for miles was covered with a thick growth of tim- 
ber, which rendered the operation of cavalry extremely 
(difficult. The Indians occupied a thick wood in front, 
where an immense number of trees had been blown down 



J70 WESTKRn ADVEJNTURE. 

by a hurricane, the branches of which were interlocked 
in such a manner as greatly to impede the exertions of 
the regulars. 

The enemy were formed in three parallel lines, at right 
angles to the river, and displayed a front of more than 
two miles. Wayne rode forward to reconnoiter their 
positions, and perceiving from the weight and extent of the 
fire, that they were in fUU force, he instantly made dispo- 
sitions for the attack. The whole of the mounted volun- 
teers were ordered to make a circuit, for the purpose of 
turning the right flank of the Indians; the cavalry were 
ordered to move up under cover of the river bank, and if 
possible, turn their left; while the regular infantry were 
formed in a thick wood in front of the "Fallen timber,^' 
with orders, as soon as the signal was given, to rush for 
ward at full speed, without firing a shot, arousing the 
enemy from their covert at the point of the bayonet, and 
then to deliver a close fire upon their backs, pressing 
them so closely as not to permit them to reload their guns. 
All these orders were executed with precision. The 
mounted volunteers moved off rapidly to occupy the desig- 
nated ground, while the first line of infantry, was formed un- 
der the eye of the commander for the perilous charge in front. 

As soon as time had been given for the arrival of the 
several corps, upon their respective points, the order was 
given to advance, and the infantry, rushing through a tre- 
mendous fire of rifles, and overleaping every impediment, 
hastened to close with their concealed enemy, and main- 
tain the struggle on equal terms. Although their loss, in 
this desperate charge, was by no means inconsiderable, 
yet the eflfect was decisive. The enemy rose and fled 
before them more than two miles, with considerable loss, 
as, owing to the orders of Wayne, they were nearly as 
much exposed as the regulars. Such was the rapidity of 
the advance, and the precipitation of the retreat, that only 
a small part of the volunteers could get up in time to 
hare in the action, although there can be no question 
that their presence, and * threatening movement, contrib- 
uted equally with the impetuous charge of the infantry, 
Jto the success of the day. 



ANTHONY WAYNE, 271 

The broken remains of the Indian army were pursued 
under the guns of the British fort, and so keen was the 
ardor of Wayne's men, and so strong their resentment 
against the English, that it was with the utmost difficulty 
they could be restrained from storming it upon the spot. 
As it was, many of the Kentucky troops advanced within 
gunshot, and insulted the garrison with a select volley of 
oaths and epithets, which must have given the British 
commandant a high idea of backwoods gentility. He 
instantly wrote an indignant letter to General Wayne, 
complaining of the outrage, and demanding by what au- 
thority he trespassed upon the sacred precincts of a Brit- 
ish garrison ? Now, " Mad Anthony" was the last man 
in the world to be dragooned into politeness, and he re- 
plied m terms but little short of those employed by the 
Kentuckians, and satisfactorily informed Captain Camp- 
bell, the British commandant, that his only chance of 
safety was silence and civility. After some sharp messa- 
ge's on both sides, the war of the pen ceased, and the 
destruction of property began. Houses, stores, corn fields, 
orchards, were soon v/rapped in flames or leveled with 
the earth. The dwelling house and store of Colonel 
McKee, the Indian Agent, shared the fate of the rest. 

All this was performed before the face of Captain Camp- 
bell, who was compelled to look on in silence, and without 
any effort to prevent it. There remains not the least 
question 7iow that the Indians were not only encouraged 
in their acts of hostility by the English traders^ but were 
actually supplied with arms, ammunition, and provisions, 
by order of the English commandant at Detroit, Colonel 
England.* There remains a correspondence between 
this gentleman and McKee, in which urgent demands are 



* This gentleman was remarkable for his immense height and enor 
moiis quantity of flesh. After his return from America, the waggish 
Prince of Wales, who was himself no pigmy, became desirous of seeing 
him. Colonel England was one day pointed out to liim by Sheridan, 
fts he was in the act of dismounting from his horse. The Prince re- 
garded him with marked attention for several minutes, and then turning 
to Sheridan, said with a laugh " Colonel England hey ! You shonkli 
have said Great Britain ! by G — d !" 



378 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

made for fresh supplies of ammunition^ and the approach 
of " the enemy'' (as they call Wayne,) is mentioned with 
great anxiety. After the battle of the Rapids, he writes 
that the Indians are much discouraged, and that'^ii^ will 
require great efforts to induce them to remain in a hody?'* 
Had Wayne been positively informed of this circumstance, 
he would scarcely have restrained his men from a more 
energetic expression of indignation. 

The Indian force being completely dispersed, their corn 
fields cut up, and their houses destroyed, Wayne drew off 
from the neighborhood of the British post, and in order to 
hold the Indians permanently in check, he erected a fort 
at the junction of the Auglaize and Miami, in the very 
heart of the Indian country, to which he gave the appropri- 
ate name of Defiance. As this was connected with Fort 
Washington by various intermediate fortifications, it could 
not fail completely to overawe the enemy, who, in a very 
short time, urgently and unanimously demanded peace. 

No victory could have been better timed than that of 
Wayne. The various tribes of Indians throughout the 
whole of the United States, encouraged by the repeated 
disasters of our armies in the northwest, had become very 
unsteady, and menacing in their intercourse with the 
whites. The Creeks and Cherokees, in the south, were 
already in arms, while the Oneidas, Tuscaroras, &c. in 
the north, were evidently preparing for hostilities. The 
shock of the victory at the Rapids, however, was felt in 
all quarters. The southern Indians instantly demanded 
peace ; the Oneidas, conscious of their evil intentions, and 
feo-rful of the consequences, became suddenly affectionate 
even to servility; and within a few months after the vic- 
tory, all the frontiers enjoyed the most profound peace. 
Wayne reported his loss at thirty-three killed and one 
hundred wounded. The Indian loss could not be ascer- 
tained, but was supposed to exceed that of the Americans. 
This, however, is very doubtful, as they gave way imme- 
diately, and were not so much exposed as the continentals. 

One circumstance attending their flight is remarkable 
and deserves to be inserted. Three Indians being hard 
pressed by the cavalry upon one side, and the infantry 



AI^ITHONY WAYNE. 276 

upon the other, plunged into the river and attempted to 
8wim to the opposite shore. A runaway negro who had at- 
tached himself to the American army, was concealed in 
the bushes upon the opposite bank, and perceiving three 
Indians approaching nearer than in his opinion was con- 
sistent with the security of his hiding place, he collected 
courage enough to level his rifle at the foremost, as he 
was swimming, and shot him through the head. , The other 
two Indians instantly halted in the water, and attempted 
to drag the body of their dead companion ashore. The 
negro, in the mean time, reloaded his gun and shot ano- 
other dead upon the spot. The survivor then seized hold 
of both bodies, and attempted, with a fidelity which seems 
astonishing, to bring them both to land. The negro having 
had leisure to reload a second time, and firing from his 
covert upon the surviving Indian, wounded him mortally 
while struggling with the dead bodies. He then ventured 
to approach them, and from the striking resemblance of 
their features, as well as their devoted attachment, they 
were supposed to have been brothers. After scalping 
them, he permitted their bodies to float down the stream. 
We shall conclude our sketches with an anecdote, which, 
although partaking somewhat of the marvelous, is too well 
authenticated to be rejected. Early in the spring of 1793, 
two boys by the name of Johnson, the one twelve, the 
other nine years of age, were playing on the banks of 
Short Creek, near the mouth of the Muskingum, and oc- 
casionally skipping stones in the water. At a distance, 
they beheld two men, dressed like ordinary settlers, in 
hats and coats, who gradually approached them, and from 
time to time, threw stones into the water m imitation of 
the children. At length, when within one nundred yards 
of the boys, they suddenly threw oflT the mask, and rushing 
rapidly upon them, made them prisoners. They proved 
to be Indians of the Delaware tribe. Takmg the children 
in their arms, they ran hastily into the woods, and after a 
rapid march of about six miles, encamped for the night. 
Having kindled a fire and laid their nfles and tomahawks 
against an adjoining tree, they lay down to rest, each with 
a boy in his arms. 



2^4 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

The children as may readily be supposed, were too much 
agitated to sleep. The eldest at length began to move 
his limbs cautiously, and finding that the Indian who held 
him remained fast asleep, he gradually disengaged himself 
from his arms, and walking to the fire which had burned 
low, remained several minutes in suspense as to what was 
next to be done. Having stirred the fire, and ascertained 
by its ligiit the exact position of the enemy^s arms, ho 
whispered softly to his brother to imitate his example, and 
if possible, extricate himself from his keeper. The little 
fellow did as his brother directed, and both stood irresolute 
for several minutes around the fire. At length, the eldest, 
who was of a very resolute disposition, proposed that they 
should kill the sleeping Indians, and return home. The 
eldest pointed to one of the guns, and assured his brother 
that if he would only pull the trigger of that gun after he 
had placed it in rest, he would answer for the other Indian. 

The plan was soon agreed upon. The rifle was leveled 
with the muzzle resting upon a log which lay near, and 
having stationed his brother at the breech with positive 
directions not to touch the trigger until he gave the word, 
he seized a tomahawk and advanced cautiously to the other 
sleeper. Such was the agitation of the younger, however, 
that he touched the trigger too soon, and the report of his 
gun awakened the other Indian before his brother was 
quite prepared. He struck the blow, however, with firm- 
ness, although, in the hurry of the act, it was done with 
the blunt part of the hatchet, and only stunned his anta- 
gonist. Quickly repeating the blow, however, with the 
edge, he inflicted a deep wound upon the Indian's head, 
and after repeated strokes, left him lifeless upon the spot. 
The younger, frightened at the explosion of his own gun, 
had already betaken himself to his heels, and was with 
difficulty overtaken by his brother. Having regained the 
road by which they had advanced, the elder fixed his hat 
upon a bush in order to mark the spot, and by daylight 
they had regained their homes. 

They found their mother in an agony of grief for their 
loss, and ignorant, whether they had been drowned or 
taken by the Indians. Their tale was heard with aston- 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 275 

ishmentj not unmingled with incredulity, and a few of the 
neighbors insisted upon accompanying them instantly to 
the spot, where so extraordinary a renconter had occurred. 
The place was soon found, and the truth of the boy's story 
placed beyond doubt. The tomahawked Indian lay in his 
blood, where he fell, but the one who had been shot was 
not to be found. A broad trail of blood, however, enabled 
them to trace his footsteps, and he was at length overtaken. 
His appearance was most ghastly. His under jaw had 
been entirely shot away, and his hands and breast were 
covered with clotted blood. Although, evidently much 
exhausted, he still kept his pursuers at bay, and faced them 
from time to time with an air of determined resolution. 
Either his gory appearance, or the apprehension that more 
were in the neighborhood, had such an effect upon his 
pursuers, that notwithstanding their numbers, he was per- 
mitted to escape. Whether he survived or perished in 
the wilderness, could never be ascertained^ but from the 
severity of the wound, the latter supposition is most pro- 
bable. 

From the peace of 1794, down to the renewal of war in 
the northwest, under the auspices of Tecumseh and the 
Prophet, no event occurred of sufficient importance to 
claim our notice. The war was over, and even private 
and individual aggression was of rare occurrence. The 
country which had been the scene of those fierce conflicts 
which we have endeavored to relate, became settled with 
a rapidity totally unprecedented in the annals of the world. 
The forests became rapidly thinned, and the game equally 
AS rapidly disappeared. Numerous villages, as if by en^ 
chantment, were daily springing up in those v/ild scenes, 
where Kenton, Crawford, Slover, and Johnston, had endur 
^d such sufferings; and the Indians, from fierce and nu 
merous tribes, were gradually melting down to a few 
squalid wanderers, hovering like restless spirits around 
the scenes of their former glory, or driven, with insult, 
from the doors of the settlers, where they were perpetu- 
ally calling for food and rum. Such wanderers were fre- 
quently murdered by lawless white men, who, like the 
rovers of pld, contended that " there was no peace beyond 



276 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the line,'' and as such offences were rarely punished, the 
Indians at length became satisfied that they must either 
retire beyond the reach of the whites, or make one last 
effort to retrieve the sinking fortunes of their race. Te- 
cumseh was the great apostle of this reviving spirit, and 
to do him justice, displayed a genius and perseverance 
worthy of a better fate. As these events, however, are 
beyond our limits, we must refer the young reader, who 
may have accompanied us thus far, to the histories of the 
day, where his curiosity will be amply gratified. 



APPENDIX. 



In the life of Kenton, we had occasion to refer to vari- 
ous names and circumstances, which, in our anxiety to 
preserve the unity and connexion of the narrative, we 
passed over very slightly at the time, reserving a more full 
detail for the present place. We allude to the celebrated 
war upon the Kenhawa, generally known by the name of 
Dunmore's expedition, in which the names of Logan, 
Lewis, Girty, Cornstalk, &c., figure conspicuously. Many 
and various reasons have been assigned for this war. Some 
have attributed it to the murder of Logan's family by 
Cressup, others to the equally atrocious murder of ** Bald 
Eagle," a celebrated Delaware chief. Both, probably, 
contributed to hasten the rupture, which, however, would 
unquestionably have taken place without either. The 
cause of this, as of all other Indian wars, is to be found in 
the jealousy and uneasiness with which the Indians be- 
held the rapid extension of the white settlements. After 
the peace of 1763, large tracts of land in the west had 
been assigned, as bounties, to such officers and soldiers as 
had fought throughout the war. Accordingly, as soon as 
peace was restored, crowds of emigrants hastened to the 
west, attended by the usual swarm of surveyors, specula- 
tors, &c. The inhabitants of the frontiers became mingled 
with the Indians. They visited and received visits from 
each other, and frequently met in their hunting parties. 
Peace existed between the nations, but the old, vindictive 
feelings, occasioned by mutual injuries, still rankled in the 
breast of individuals. Civilities were quickly followed by 
murders, which led to retaliation, remonstrances, promises 
of amendment, and generally closed witli fresh murders. 

The murder of " Bald Eagle," an aged Delaware sa- 
chem, was peculiarly irritating to that warlike nation. He 
spoke the English language with great fluency, and being' 

X 277 



278 APPENDIX. 

remarkably fond oT tobacco, sweetmeats, ana rum, all of 
which were generally offered to him in profusion in the 
settlements, he was a frequent visiter at the fort erected at 
the mouth of the Kenhawa, and familiarly acquainted even 
with the children. He usually ascended the river alone, 
in a bark canoe, and from the frequency and harmlessness 
of his visits, his appearance never excited the least alarm. 
A white man who had suffered much from the Indians, 
encountered the old chief one evening, alone upon the 
river, returning peaceably from one of his usual visits. 
A conference ensued, which terminated in a quarrel, and 
the old man was killed upon the spot. The murderer, 
having scalped his victim, fixed the dead body in the usual 
sitting posture in the stern of the boat, replaced the pipe 
in his mouth, and launching the canoe again upon the 
river, permitted it to float down with its burden, undisturb- 
ed. Many settlers beheld it descending in this manner, 
but from the upright posture of the old man, they suppo- 
sed that he was only returning as usual from a visit to the 
whites. The truth, however, was quickly discovered, 
and inflamed his tribe with the most ungovernable rage. 
Vengeance was vowed for the outrage, and amply exacted. 

At length, hostilities upon this remote frontier became 
so serious, as to demand the attention of government. 
One of the boldest of these forays, was conducted by 
Logan in person. Supposing that the inhabitants of the 
interior would consider themselves secure from the In 
dians, and neglect those precautions which were 'generally 
used upon the frontier, he determined, with a small but 
select band of followers, to penetrate to the thick settle- 
ments upon the head waters of the Monongahela, and 
wreak his vengeance upon its unsuspecting inhabitants. 
The march was conducted with the usual secrecy of In- 
dian warriors, and with great effect. Many scalps and 
several prisoners were taken, with which, by the signal 
conduct of their chief, they were enabled to elude all pur- 
suit, and return in safety to their towns. 

One of the incidents attending this incursion, deserves 
to be mentioned, as illustrating the character of Logan. 
While hovering, with his followers, around the skirts of a 
thick settlement, he suddenly came within view of a small 
field, recently cleared, in which three men were pulling 
flax. Causing the greater part of his men to remain 



APPENDIX. 279 

where they were, Loga»> topther with two others, crept 
up withha long shot of the white men and fired. One 
man fell dead, the remainfcg two attempted to escape. 
The elder of the fugitives (Hellew,) was quickly overtaken 
and made prisoner by Logan's associates, while Logan 
himself, having thrown down his rifle, pressed forward 
alone in pursuit of the younger of the white men, whose 
name was Robinson. The contest was keen for several 
hundred yards, but Robinson, unluckily, looking around, 
in order to have a view of his pursuer, ran against a tree 
with such violence as completely to stun him, and render 
him insensible for several minutes. 

Upon recovering, he found himself bound and lying 
ipon his back, while Logan sat by his side, with unmoved 
gravity, awaiting his recovery. He was then compelled 
o accompany them in their further attempts upon the set- 
dements, and in the course of a few days, was marched 
off with great rapidity for their villages in Ohio. During 
:he march, Logan remained silent and melancholy, proba- 
3ly brooding over the total destruction of his family. The 
prisoners, however, were treated kindly, until they arrived 
at an Indian village upon the Muskingum. When within 
a mile of the town, Logan became more animated, and 
uttered the ^* scalp halloo" several times, in the most ter- 
rible tones. The never filing scene of insult and torture 
then began. Crowds flocked out to meet them, and a line 
was formed for the gauntlet. 

Logan took no share in the cruel game, but did not at- 
tempt to repress it. He, however, gave Robinson, whom 
he regarded as his own prisoner, some directions as to the 
best means of reaching the council house in safety, and 
displayed some anxiety for his safe arrival, while poor 
Hellew was left in total ignorance, and permitted to strug- 
gle forward as he best could. Robinson, under the pat- 
ronage of Logan, escaped with a few slight bruises, but 
Hellew, not knowing where to run, was dreadfully man- 
gled, and would probably have been killed upon the spot, 
had not Robinson (not without great risk on his own part) 
seized him by the hand and dragged him into the council 
house. 

On the following morning, a council was called in order 
to determine their fate, in which Logan held a conspicuous 
superiority over all who were assembled. Hellew's des- 



280 APPENDIX. 

tiny came first under discussion, and was quickly decided 
by an almost unanimous vote of adoption. Robinson's 
was most difficult to determine. A majority of the council, 
(partly influenced by a natural thirst for vengeance upon 
at least one object, partly, perhaps, by a lurking jealousy 
of the imposing superiority of Logan's character,) were 
obstinately bent upon putting him to death. Logan spoke 
for nearly an hour upon the question; and if Robinson is 
o be believed, with an energy, copiousness, and dignity, 
which would not have disgraced Henry himself. He 
appeared at no loss for either words or ideas; his tones 
were deep and musical, and were heard by the assembly 
with the silence of death. All, however, was vain. Rob- 
mson was condemned, and within an hour afterwards, was 
fastened to the stake. Logan stood apart from the crowd 
with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon the scene 
with an air of stern displeasure. 

When the fire was about to be applied, he suddenly 
strode into the circle, pushing aside those who stood in 
the way, and advancing straight up to the stake, cut the 
cords with his tomahawk, and taking the prisoner by the 
hand, led him with a determined air to his own wigwam. 
The action was so totally unexpected, and the air of the 
chief so determined, that he had reached the door of his 
wigwam before any one ventured to interfere. Much dis- 
satisfaction was then expressed, and threatening symptoms 
of a tumult appeared; but so deeply rooted was his author- 
ity, that in a few hours all was quiet, and Robinson, with- 
out opposition, was permitted to enter an Indian family. 
He remained with Logan until the treaty of Fort Pitt, in 
the autumn of the ensuing year, when he returned to Vir- 
ginia. He ever retained the most unbounded admiration 
for Logan, and repeatedly declared that his countenance, 
when speaking, was the most striking, varied, and im- 
pressive, that he ever beheld. And when it is recollected 
that he had often heard Lee and Henry, in all their glory, 
the compliment must be regarded as a very high one. 

This, together with various other marauding expedi- 
tions, generally carried on by small parties, determined 
the governor of Virginia (Dunmore) to assemble a large 
force and carry the war into their own territories. The 
plan of the expedition was soon arranged. Three com- 
^>lete regiments were to be raised west of the Blue Ridge, 



APPENDIX 2Sl 

under the command of General AndreAv Lewis ; while an 
equal force, from the interior, was commanded by Dun- 
more in person. The armies were to form a junction at 
the mouth of the Great Kenhawa, and proceed together 
under Dunmore, to the Indian towns in Ohio. 

On the 1st September, 1774, a part of General Lewis' 
division, consisting of two regiments, under the orders of 
Colonel Charles Lewis, his brother, and Colonel William 
Fleming, of Botetourt, rendezvoused at Camp Union, (now 
Lewisburgh, Va.) where they were joined by an indepen- 
dent regiment of backwoods volunteers, under the orders 
of Colonel John Fields, a very distinguished officer, who, 
together with most of those now assembled, had served 
under Braddock. Here they remained, awaiting the arrival 
of Colonel Christian, who was busily engaged in assem- 
bling another regiment. By the junction of Field, Lewis' 
force amounted to about eleven hundred men, accustomed 
to danger, and conducted by the flower of the border offi- 
cers. General Lewis, as well as his brother, had been 
present at Braddock' s defeat, and were subaltern officers in 
two companies of Virginia riflemen, who formed the ad- 
vance of the English army. 

We shall here relate some circumstances attending that 
melancholy disaster, which are not to be found in the regu- 
lar histories of the period. Braddock's battle ground was 
a small bottom, containing not more than two acres, bound- 
ed on the east by the Monongahela, and upon the west by 
a high clifl* which rises precipitately above the bottom, and 
which, together with the river, completely enclosed it. 
Through this clifl*, and near its center, runs a deep gorge 
or ravine, the sides of which are nearly perpendicular, and 
the summits of which were at that time thickly covered 
with timber, rank grass, and thickets of underwood. Upon 
tliis clifl*, the Indian army lay in ambush, awaiting the ar- 
rival of their foe. The only passage for the English lay 
through the ravine, immediately in front of the ford. The 
two companies of rangers crossed the river in advance of 
the regulars, and suspecting no danger, immediately enter- 
ed the mouth of the ravine. Braddock followed in close 
column, and the devoted army soon stood in the bottom 
already mentioned, the river in the rear, the clifl" in front, 
and the ravine presenting the only practicable passage to 
the French fort. 



282 APPENDIX. 

Instantly a tremendous fire opened upon them from th. 
cliff above, and as the small bottom was thronged with rec 
coats, immense execution was done. In the mean time, 
the two devoted companies of rangers were more than one 
hundred yards in front, and completely buried in the gorge 
already mentioned. Upon hearing the firing in their rear, 
they attempted to rejoin the army, but a select corps of In- 
dian warriors rushed down the steep banks of the ravine 
and blocked up the passage. A furious struggle ensued. 
The Indians could not possibly give way, as the banks 
were too steep to admit of retreat in that direction ; and 
if they retired through the mouth of the ravine into the bot- 
tom below, they would have found themselves in the midst 
of the English ranks. On the other hand, the Virginians 
were desperately bent upon rejoining their friends, which 
could only be done over the bodies of the Indians. Thus 
the gorge became the theater of a separate battle, far more 
desperate than that which raged in the bottom or upon the 
cliffs. 

In these two companies, were to be found many names 
afterwards highly distinguished both in the Indian and 
British war. Here was general Lewis and his five brothers; 
Colonel Matthews, afterwards so distinguished at German- 
town, together with four of his brothers ; Colonel John 
Field, afterwards killed at Point Pleasant ; Colonel Grant, 
of Kentucky, John McDowell, and several others, after- 
wards well known in Virginia and Kentucky. The press 
was too great to admit of the rifle. Knives and tomahawks 
were their only weapons, and upon both sides (for th^ 
numbers engaged) the slaughter was prodigious. One half 
the Virginians were left dead in the pass, and most of the 
survivors were badly wounded. The Indians suffered 
equally, and at length became so much thinned as to afford 
room for the Virginians to pass them and rejoin their friends 
below. There all was dismay and death. Braddock, un- 
able from the nature of the ground to charge with effect, 
and too proud to retreat before an enemy whom he despis- 
ed, was actively, and as calmly as if upon parade, laboring 
to form his troops under a fire which threatened to annihi- 
late every thing within its range. The event is well known. 

Upon the fall of Braddock, the troops gave way, and re- 
crossing the river, rejoined the rear guard of the army, 
after a defeat, which then had no parallel in Indian warfare. 



APPENDIX, 288 

Colonel Lewis afterwards served as major in Washington's 
regiment, and ranked peculiarly high in the estimation of 
his illustrious commander. He accompanied Grant in his 
unfortunate masquerade, and in a brave attempt with the 
colonial troops to retrieve the fortune of the day, was 
wounded and made prisoner by the French. While he and 
Grant were together at Fort Du Quesne, upon parole, a 
quarrel took place between them, much to the amusement 
of the French. Grant, in his despatches, had made Lewis 
the scapegoat, and thrown the whole blame of the defeat 
upon him ; whereas, in truth, the only execution that was 
done, was effected by his Virginia troops. The despatches 
fell into the hands of some Indians, who brought them to 
the French commandant. Captain Lewis happened to 
be present when they were opened, and was quickly in- 
formed of their contents. 

Without uttering a word, he went in search of Grant, 
reproached him with the falsehood, and putting his hand 
upon his sword, directed his former commander to draw and 
defend himself upon the spot. Grant contemptuously re- 
fused to comply, upon which Lewis lost all temper, cursed 
him for a liar and a coward, and in the presence of two 
French officers spit in his face. General Lewis' person 
considerably exceeded six feet in height, and was at once 
strongly and handsomely formed. His countenance was 
manly and stern — strongly expressive of that fearlessness 
and energy of character which distinguished him through 
life. His manners were plain, cold, and unbending, and 
his conversation short, pithy, and touching only upon the 
" needful." At the general treaty with the Indian tribes in 
1763, General Lewis was present, and his fine military ap- 
pearance attracted great attention, and inspired somewhat 
of awe among the more pacific deputies. The governor of 
New- York declared that he " looked hke the genius of the 
forest ; and that the earth seemed to tremble beneath his 
footsteps." 

Such as we have described him, he was now placed at 
the head of one thousand men, with orders to meet Dun- 
more at Point Pleasant. Having waited several days at 
Lewisburgh for Colonel Christian, without hearing from 
him, he determined no longer to delay his advance. On 
the 11th of • September, he left Lewisbuigh, and without 
any adventure of importance, arrived at the concerted place 



284 APPENDIX. 

of rendezvouso Dunmore had not yet arrived, and Lewis 
remained several days in anxious expectation of his ap- 
proach. At length, he received despatches from the gov- 
ernor, informing him that he had changed his plan, and had 
* determined to move directly upon the Scioto villages, at th« 
same time ordering Lewis to cross the Ohio and join him. 

Although not much gratified at this sudden change of a 
plan which had been deliberately formed, Lewis prepared 
to obey, and had issued directions for the construction of 
rafts, boats, &c», in which to cross the Ohio ; when on the 
morning of the 10th October, two of his hunters came run- 
ning into camp, with the intelligence that a body of Indians 
was at hand, which covered *' four acres of ground." 

Upon this news, the general (having first lit his pipe) 
directed his brother. Colonel Charles Lewis, to proceed 
with his own regiment, and that of Colonel Fleming, and 
reconnoiter the ground w^here the enemy had been seen, 
while he held the remainder of the army ready to support 
him. Colonel Charles Lewis instantly advanced in the 
execution of his orders, and at the distance of a mile from 
eamp, beheld a large body of the enemy advancing rap- 
idly in hope of surprising the Virginian camp. The 
sun was just rising as the renconter took place, and in a 
few minutes the action became warm and bloody. Colo- 
nel Charles Lewis being much exposed, and in full uni- 
form^ was mortally wounded early in the action, as was 
Colonel Fleming, the second in command. The troops 
having great confidence in Colonel Lewis, were much dis- 
couraged, and being hard pressed by the enemy, at length 
gave way, and attempted to regain the camp. At this criti- 
cal moment, General Lewis ordered up Field^s regiment, 
which, coming handsomely into action, restored the fortune 
of the day. The Indians, in turn, were routed, and com- 
pelled to retire to a spot where they had erected a rough 
breastwork of logs. 

The action was fought in the narrow point of land formed 
by the junction of the Ohio and Kenhawa. The Indian 
breastwork was formed from one river to the other, so as 
to enclose the Virginians within the point ; of course the 
breastwork formed the base, and the Virginian camp the 
vertex of the triangle, of which the rivers were sides. 
Here they rallied in full force, and appeared determined to 
abide the brunt of the Virginian force, Lo^an^ Cornstalk, 



APPENDIX. 285 

Elenipsico, Red Eagle, and many other celebrated chiefs 
were present, and were often heard loudly encouraging 
their warriors. Cornstalk, chief Sachem of the Shawnees, 
and leader of the northern confederacy, was particularly 
conspicuous. As the repeated efforts of the whites to carry 
the breastwork became more warm and determined, the In- 
dian line began to waver, and several were seen to give 
way. Cornstalk, in a moment, was upon the spot, and 
was heard distinctly to shout " Be strong ! Be strong !" in 
tones which rose above the din of the conflict. He buried 
his hatchet in the head of one of his warriors, and indig- 
nantly shaming the rest, completely restored the battle, 
which raged until four o'clock in the afternoon, without 
any decisive result. The Virginians fought with distin- 
guished bravery, and suffered severely in those repeated 
charges upon the breastwork, but were unable to make any 
impression. The Indians towards evening, despatched a 
part of their force to cross both rivers, in order to prevent 
the escape of a man of the Virginians, should victory turn 
against them. 

At length General Lewis, alarmed at the extent of his 
loss, and the obstinacy of the enemy, determined to make 
an effort to turn their flank with three companies, and at- 
tack them in rear. By the aid of a small stream, which 
empties into the Kenhawa, a short distance above its 
mouth, and which at that time had high and bushy banks, 
he was enabled to gain their rear with a small force, com- 
manded by Captain (afterwards governor) Isaac Shelby. 
Cornstalk instantly ordered a retreat, which was performed 
in a masterly manner, and with a very slight loss, the In- 
dians alternately advancing and retreating in such a man- 
ner as to hold the whites in check, until dark, when the 
whole body disappeared. The loss of the Virginians was 
severe, and amounted in killed and wounded to one fourth 
of their whole number. The Indian loss was compara- 
tively trifling. The action was shortly followed by a trea- 
ty, at which all the chiefs were present except Logan, who 
refused to be included in it. He wandered among the 
northwestern tribes, for several years, like a restless spirit, 
and finally in utter recklessness, became strongly addicted 
to gaming and the use of ardent spirits. He was at length 
murdered on a solitary journey from Detroit to the north- 



286 AfFEINDLV 

eastern part of Ohio, as is generally supposed by his own 
nephew. 

It is not a little singular, that the three celebrated Indian 
chiefs who commanded in the battle at the Point, should 
all have been murdered, and that two of them should have 
met their fate upon the same spot which had witnessed 
their brave efforts to repress the extension of the white 
settlements. Cornstalk and Elenipsico, his son, were killed 
during a friendly visit to Point Pleasant, in the summer of 
1775, only a few months after the action. The circum- 
stances attending the affair are thus related by Colonel 
Stewart : 

" A Captain Arbuckle commanded the garrison of tlie 
fort erected at Point Pleasant after the battle fought by 
General Lewis with the Indians at that place, in October, 
1774. In the succeeding year, when the revolutionary 
war had commenced, the agents of Great Britain exerted 
themselves to excite the Indians to hostility against the 
United States. The mass of the Shawnees entertained a 
strong animosity against the Americans. But, two of theii 
chiefs, Cornstalk and Red Hawk, not participating in that 
animosity, visited the garrison at the Point, where Arbuckle 
continued to command. Colonel Stewart was at the post 
in the character of a volunteer, and was an eye-witness of 
the facts which he relates. Cornstalk represented his un- 
willingness to take a part in the war, on the British side : 
but stated, that his nation, except himself and his tribe, 
were determined on war with us, and he supposed, that 
he and his people would be compelled to go with the 
stream. 

On this intimation, Arbuckle resolved to detain the two 
chiefs, and a third Shawnee who came with them to the 
fort, as hostages, under the expectation of preventing there- 
by any hostile efforts of the nation. On the day before 
these unfortunate Indians fell victims to the fury of the 
garrison, Elenipsico, the son of Cornstalk, repaired to 
Point Pleasant for the purpose of visiting his father, and. 
on the next day, two men belonging to the garrison, whose 
names were Hamilton and Gillmore, crossed the Kenhawa, 
intending to hunt in the woods beyond it. On their return 
from hunting, some Indians who had come to view the po- 
sition at the Point, concealed themselves in the weeds near 
the moutli of the Kenhawa, and killed Gillmore while en- 



APPENDIX, 287 

deavoring to pass them. Colonel Stewart and Captain 
Arbuckle were standing on the opposite bank of the river 
at that time, and were surprised that a gun had been fired 
so near the fort, in violation of orders which had been is- 
sued inhibiting ^such an act. 

Hamilton ran down the bank, and cried out that Gillmore 
was killed. Captain Hall commanded the company to 
which Gillmore belonged. His men leaped into a canoe, 
and hastened to the relief of Hamilton. They brought the 
body of Gillmore weltering in blood, and the head scalped, 
across the river. The canoe had scarcely reached the shore, 
when Hall's men cried out " let us kill the Indians in the 
fort." Captain Hall placed himself in front of his soldiers, 
and they ascended the river's bank pale with rage, and car- 
rying their loaded firelocks in their hands. Colonel Stuart 
and Captain Arbuckle exerted themselves in vain, to dis- 
suade these men, exasperated to madness by the spectacle 
of Gillmore' s corpse, from the cruel deed which they con- 
templated. They cocked their guns, threatening those 
gentlemen with instant death, if they did not desist, and 
rushed into the fort. 

The interpreter's wife, who had been a captive among 
the Indians, and felt an affection for them, ran to their cabin 
and informed them that Hall's soldiers were advancing, 
with the intention of taking their lives, because they believ- 
ed, that the Indians who killed Gillmore, had come with 
Cornstalk's son on the preceding day. This the young 
man solemnly denied, and averred that he knew nothing of 
them. His father, perceiving that Elenipsico was in great 
agitation, encouraged him and advised him not to fear. " If 
the great Spirit," said he, " has sent you hereto be killed, 
you ought to die like a man!" As the soldiers approached 
the door. Cornstalk rose to meet them, and received seven 
or eight balls, which instantly terminated his existence. 
His son was shot dead, in the seat which he occupied. 
The Red-hawk made an attempt to climb the chimney, but 
fell by the fire of some of Hall's men. " The other Indian," 
says Colonel Stuart, " was shamefully mangled, and I 
grieved to see him so long dying." 



288 APPENDIX, 



ST. CLAIR'S OFFICIAL LETTER. 

Fort Washington^ November 9, 1791. 

"Sir: — Yesterday afternoon the remains of the army 
under my command got back to this place, and I have now 
the painful task to give an account of a warm, and as unfor- 
tunate an action as almost any that has been fought, in 
which every corps was engaged and worsted, except the 
first regiment, that had been detached upon a service that 1 
had the honor to inform you of in my last despatch, and 
had not joined me. 

" On the 3d inst. the army had reached a creek about 
twelve yards wide running to the southward of west, which 
1 believe to have been the river St. Mary that empties into 
the Miami of the lake, arrived at the village about 4 o'clock 
in the afternoon, having marched near nine miles, and were 
immediately encamped upon a very commanding piece of 
ground in two lines, having the above mentioned creek in 
front. The right wing composed of Butler, Clark, and 
Patterson's battalions, commanded by Major General Butler, 
formed the first line ; and the left wing, consisting of Bed- 
inger and Gaither's battalions, and the second regimenA 
commanded by Colonel Darke, formed the second line 
with an interval between them of about seventy yards, 
which was all the ground would allow. 

** The right flank was pretty well secured by the creek, 
a steep bank, and Faulkner's corps. Some of the cavalry 
and their piquets covered the left flank. The militia were 
gent over the creek and advanced about one quarter of a 
mile, and encamped in the same order. There were a few 
Indians who appeared on the opposite side of the creek, 
but fled with the utmost precipitation on the advance of the 
militia. At this place, which I judged to be about fifteen 
miles from the Miami villages, I had determined to throw 
up a slight work, the plan of which was concerted that 
evening with Major Ferguson, wherein to have deposited 
the men's knapsacks, and every thing else that was not of 
absolute necessity, and to have moved on to attack the ene- 
my as soon as the first regiment was come up ; but they 
did not permit me to execute either ; for on the 4th, about 



APPENDIX. 289 

half an hour before sunrise, and when the men had been 
just dismissed from the parade, (for it was a constant prac- 
tice to have them all under arms a considerable time before 
daylight,) an attack was made upon the militia, who gave 
way in a very little time, and rushed into camp through 
Major Butler's battalion, which, together with part of 
Clark's, they threw into considerable disorder, and which, 
notwithstanding the exertions of both these officers, was 
never altogether remedied. 

" The Indians followed close at their heels ; the fire, how 
ever, of the front line checked them ; but almost instan- 
taneously a very heavy attack began upon that line, and in 
a few minutes it was extended to the second likewise. 
The great weight of it was directed against the center of each, 
where the artillery was placed, and from which the men 
were repeatedly driven wdth great slaughter. Finding no 
great effect from the fire, and confusion beginning to spread 
from the great number of men who were fallen in all quarters, 
it became necessary to try what could be done with the 
bayonet. 

" Lieutenant Colonel Darke was accordingly ordered to 
make a charge, with a part of the second line, and to turn 
the left flank of the enemy. This was executed with great 
spirit, and at first promised much success. The Indians 
instantly gave way, and were driven back three or four 
hundred yards ; but for want of a sufficient number of rifle- 
men to pursue this advantage, they soon returned, and the 
troops were obliged to give back in their turn. At this 
moment they had entered our camp by the left flank, hav- 
ing pursued back the troops that were posted there. 

" Another charge was made here by the second regiment, 
Butler and Clark's battalions, with equal effect, and it was 
repeated several times, and always with success ; but in all 
of them many men were lost, and particularly the officers, 
which, with some raw troops, was a loss altogether irreme- 
diable. In that I just spoke of made by the second regi- 
ment, and Butler's battalion. Major Butler was dangerously 
wounded, and every officer of the second regiment fell ex- 
cept three, one of which, Captain Greaton, was shot tlirough 
the body. 

*' Our artillery being now silenced, and all the officers 
killed except Captain Ford, who was badly wounded, more 
than half of the army fallen, being cut ofi* from the ro^xl, it 



290 APPENDIX. 

became necessary to attempt the regaining it, and to make a 
retreat if possible. To this purpose the remains of the army 
was formed as well as circumstances would admit, towards 
;he right of the encampment ; from which, by the way of 
he second line, another charge was made upon the enemy, 
IS if with the design of turning their right flank, but it was 
m fact to gain the road. This was effected, and as soon as 
it was open the militia entered it, followed by the troops, 
Major Clark with his battalion covering the rear. 

" The retreat in those circumstances was, you may be 
sure, a precipitate one. It was in fact a flight. The 
camp and the artillery were abandoned ; but that was una 
voidable, for not a horse was left alive to have drawn it off 
had it otherwise been practicable. But the most disgrace- 
ful part of the business is, that the greatest part of the men 
threw away their arms and accouterments, even after the 
pursuit (which continued about four miles) had ceased. 

" I found the road strewed with them for many miles, 
but was not able to remedy it ; for having had all my hor- 
ses killed, and being mounted upon one that could not be 
pricked out of a walk, I could not get forward myself; and 
the orders I sent forward either to halt the front or prevent 
the men from parting with their arms, were unattended to. 

" The rout continued quite to fort Jefferson, twenty-nine 
miles, which was reached a little after sunset. The action 
began about half an hour before sunrise, and the retreat 
was attempted at half past nine o'clock. 

" I have not yet been able to get the returns of the 
'killed and wounded ; but Major General Butler, Lieuten- 
ant Colonel Oldham, of the militia. Majors Ferguson, Hart, 
and Clark, are among the former. 

"I have now, sir, finished my melancholy tale; a tale 
that will be felt, sensibly felt, by every one that has sym- 
pathy for private distress, or for public misfortune. I 
have nothing, sir, to lay to the charge of the troops but 
their want of discipline, which, from the short time they 
had been in service, it was impossible they should have 
acquired, and which rendered it very difiicult, when they 
were thrown into confusion, to reduce them again to order, 
and is one reason why the loss has fallen so heavy upon 
the officers, who did every thing in their power to effect it. 
Neither were my own exertions wanting ; but worn down 
with illness, and suffering under a painful disease, unable 



APPEiNDIX. 291 

cither to mount or dismount a horse without assistance, 
they were not so great as they otherwise would, or perhaps 
ought to have been. 

" We were overpowered by numbers ; but it is no more 
than justice to observe, that though composed of so many 
different species of troops, the utmost harmony prevailed 
through the whole army during the campaign. 

" At Fort Jefferson I found the first regiment, which had 
returned from the service they had been sent upon, without 
either overtaking the deserters or meeting the convoy of 
provisions. I am not certain, sir, whether I ought to con- 
sider the absence of this regiment from the field of action 
as fortunate ; for I very much doubt, whether, had it been 
in the action, the fortune of the day had been turned ; and 
if it had not, the triumph of the enemy would have been 
more complete, and the country would have been destitute 
of means of defence. 

" Taking a view of the situation of our broken troops 
at Fort Jefferson, and that there were no provisions in the 
fort, I called on the field ofl[icers for their advice what 
would be proper further to be done ; and it was their unani- 
mous opinion, that the addition of the first regiment, un- 
broken as it was, did not put the army on so respectable a 
footing as it was in the morning, because a great part of it 
was now unarmed ; that it had been found unequal to the 
enemy, and should they come on, which was probable, 
would be found so again; that the troops could not be 
thrown into the fort, because it was too small, and there 
was no provision in it ; that provisions were known to be 
upon the road at the distance of one or at most two march- 
es ; that therefore it would be proper to move without loss 
of time to meet the provisions, when the men might have 
the sooner an opportunity of some refreshment, and that a 
proper detachment might be sent back with it, to have it 
safely deposited in the fort. 

*' This advice was accepted, and the army was put in 
motion at ten o'clock, and marched all night, and the suc- 
ceeding day met with a quantity of flour ; part of it was 
distributed immediately, part taken back to supply the ar- 
my on the march to Fort Hamilton, and the remainder, 
about fifty horse loads, sent forward to Fort Jefferson. 

"I have said, sir, in the former part of my communica- 
tion, that we were overpowered by numbers ; of that, how 



292 APPENDIX. 

ever, I had no other evidence but the weight of the fire, 
which was always a most deadly one, and generally deliv- 
ered from the ground, few of the enemy showing them- 
selves on foot, except when they were charged, and that 
in a few minutes our whole camp, which extended above 
three hundred and fifty yards in length, was entirely sur- 
rounded and attacked on all quarters. 

" The loss, sir, the public has sustained by the fall of so 
many officers, particularly General Butler, and Major Fer- 
guson, cannot be too much regretted ; but it is a circum- 
stance that will alleviate the misfortune in some measure, 
that all of them fell most gallantly doing their duty. I 
have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant. 

"ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 
" Hon. Secretary of War." 

Upon a review of the chapter containing St. Clair's de- 
feat, the author is aware that he will probably be charged 
with undue partiality, and perhaps with a misstatement of 
facts, particularly as it relates to the force of the Indian ar- 
my Mr. Marshall, in his life of Washington, reduces 
the Indian force to an equality with St. Clair, and Mr. 
Mai shall, of Kentucky, appears to be of the same opinion. 
That chapter was written before I had particularly referred to 
these excellent authorities, and my own statement of the In- 
dian force was taken from a book entitled " Indian Wars," 
which professes to have derived it from the acknowledgment 
of the Indians themselves. Upon reflection, I am satisfied 
that the gentlemen above mentioned are correct, and only 
regret that the error into which I was led by insufliicient 
authority, cannot now be remedied. 

In a private letter from Colonel McKee, the Indian 
agent, to Colonel England, at Detroit, the Indian force as- 
sembled at the "Fallen Timber," a few days before the 
battle, is estimated at " one thousand menP^ The letter 
concludes with an earnest demand for reinforcements I 
Ten days afterwards, the battle was fought, within which 
period, it is difficult to believe, that large reinforcements 
Gould arrive from the upper lakes, the only source from 
which they were expected. It is absolutely certain, that 
the Indian force opposed to Wayne did not exceed fifteen 
hundred men, although their whole strength was assem- 
bled. From this data, it would geem impossible that tlie 



APPENDIX. 298 

force employed against St. Clair (more hastily collected 
and at shorter warning) could have exceeded twelve or 
fifteen hundred men. Mr. Marshall, although evidently 
disposed to do that unfortunate gentleman every justice, is, 
nevertheless, tolerably severe in his strictures upon the or- 
der of battle. 

He particularly censures him for posting the militia in 
front in order to receive the first shock, and contends that 
they should have been formed in the centre of the square, 
in order to reinforce such parts of the line as gave way. 
This, as the event turned out, would probably have been 
better than the measure actually adopted, but St. Clair, at 
the time, only conformed to the rule then established, and 
imiversally practised. Militia were always advanced in 
front of regulars, and never incorporated with them. This 
was uniformly done by Washington, by Greene, (except 
upon one occasion, when he placed them in the rear as a 
reserve, and when they were wanted, found them too much 
frightened to be of any use,) and by every general who 
employed them. We criticise St. Clair by the light of for- 
ty years additional experience in Indian warfare, which at 
the time of his defeat, was not as well understood, at least 
so far as relates to the employment of regulars, as now. 

The close encampment of the ti'oops was certainly high- 
ly improper, as battle was expected, ^nd for battle he 
should have been always prepared. For the rest, we can 
see no room for blame. That no general charge was made 
is true, for the simple reason, that the troops being totally 
raw, could not be brought to unite in one, although every 
possible exertion was made by officers, as brave and intel- 
ligent as any in America. And, even if one could have 
been made, there is every reason to believe, that the event 
of the action would have been the same. The Indians 
would have given way, but their retreating fire was as fatal 
as any other, and had the regulars followed throughout the 
day, they could not have overtaken them, and without a 
sufficient body of cavalry, could have made no impression 
upon so light footed and irregular an enemy. 

That a general charge succeeded under Wayne is true, 
but how different were the circumstances ! Wayne was the 
assailant ; St. Clair was attacked suddenly and under great 
disadvantages. Wayne more than doubled his enemy ia 
numbers, St. Clair was at best only equal to his ; and what 

Y 



S94 APPENDIX. 

frfnade an incalculable difference, Wayne was in possessioia 
of a powerful body of mounted men, who alone exceeded 
the whole body of Indians in the field. Here^ advantages 
gained by the bayonet, could be pressed by a numerous 
cavalry. The Indians were aware of all these circum- 
stances ; they beheld the movement of the mounted men, 
in order to turn their position, and finding themselves charg- 
ed in their coverts, instantly fled, but whether from fear of 
the bayonets of the infantry, or the more rapid movements 
of horse, is a question which might admit of discussion. 
Had Wayne encountered them with the bayonet alone, they 
would (as in St. Claires case) have fled, but like the ancient 
Parthians, their flight would have been as fatal as their ad- 
vance. I have not the slightest disposition to detract from 
the well merited fame of 'Wayne. His whole movements 
during the campaign, displayed a boldness, vigor, and de- 
cision, which the miserable decrepitude of St. Clair forbade 
him to exert ; but it cannot be denied, that he fought with 
means incomparably beyond those of his predecessor. 

N. B. General St. Clair was of opinion that his defeat 
occurred upon the St. Mary, and it is so stated in his of- 
ficial despatch. It is incorrect. The action was fought 
upon a small tributary stream of the Wabash. 



INDIAN MANNERS. 

THE CHASE. 

"JThe following numbers are chiefly collected from Lewis 
& Qlarke and Major Long's Journal : 

" When the trading and planting occupations of the peo- 
ple are terminated, and provisions begin to fail them, which 
occurs generally in June, the chiefs assemble a council for 
the purpose of deliberating upon farther arrangements ne- 
cessary to be made. This assembly decrees a feast to be 
prepared, on a certain day, to which all the distinguished 
men of the nation are to be invited, and one of dieir nuja- 
ber is appointed to have it prepared in his own lodge. Oa 
the return of this individual to his dwelling, he petitions hie 
squaws to have pity on him, and proceed to clean and ad- 



APPENDIX. 29S 

just the department ; to spread the mats and skins for seats, 
and to collect wood, and bring water for cooking. He re- 
quests them to provide three or four large kettles, to pre- 
pare the maize, and to kill their fattest dog for a feast. 
The squaws generally murmur at this last proposition, be- 
ing reluctant to sacrifice these animals, which are of great 
service to them in carrying burdens, like the dogs of the 
erratic Tartars ; but when they are informed of the honor 
that awaits them, of feasting all the distinguished men, they 
undertake their duties with pride and satisfaction. 

" When they have performed their part, the squaws give 
notice to the husband, who then calls two or three old pub- 
lic criers to his lodge. He invites them to be seated near 
'iiim, and after the ceremony of smoking, he addresses them 
in a low voice, directing them to pass through the village, 
iind invite the individuals, whom he names to them, to ho- 
nor him by their presence, at the feast which is now pre- 
pared. ' Speak in a low voice,' says he, ' and tell them to 
bring their bowls and spoons.' The criers, having thus 
leceived their instructions, sally out together, and, in con- 
tort, sing aloud as they pass in various directions through the 
village. In this song of invitation, the names of all the 
elect are mentioned. Having performed this duty, they 
return to the lodge, and are soon followed by the chiefs and 
warriors. The host seats himself in the back part of the 
iodge, facing the entrance, where he remains during the 
ceremony. If the host is invested with the dignity of chief, 
he directs those who enter where to seat themselves, so 
that the chiefs may be arranged on one side, and the war- 
riors on the other : if he is a warrior, he seats the principal 
chiefs of the village by his side, who whisper in his ear the 
situation which those who enter ought to occupy : this in- 
timation is repeated aloud by the host, when the guests are 
all arranged, the pipe is lighted, and the indispensable 
ceremony of smoking succeeds. 

" The principal chief then rises, and extending his ex- 
panded hand towards each in succession, gives thanks to 
them individually, byname, for the honor of their company, 
and requests their patient attention to what he is about to 
say. He then proceeds, somewhat in the following man- 
ner : — ' Friends and relatives, we are assembled here for 
the purpose of consulting respecting the proper course to 
pursue in our next hunting excursion, or whether the 



296 APPENDIX. 

quantity of provisions, at present on hand, will justify a 
determination to remain here, to weed our maize.' If it be 
decided to depart immediately, the subject to be then taken 
into view, will be the direction, extent, and object of the 
route. 

" Having thus disclosed the business of the council, he 
is frequently succeeded by an old chief, who thanks him 
for his attention to their wants, and advises the assembly 
to pay great attention to what he has said, as he is a man 
of truth, of knowledge, and bravery. He further assures 
them, that they have ample cause to return thanks to the 
Great Wahconda, for having sent such a man among them, 

" The assembly then takes the subject into their con- 
sideration, and after much conversation, determine upon a 
route, which the principal chief proposes in a speech. 
This chief, previous to the council, is careful to ascertain 
the opinions and wishes of his people, and speaks accord- 
ingly. 

" He sometimes, however, meets with opposition, from 
persons who propose other hunting grounds : but their dis- 
courses are filled with compliments to his superior know- 
ledge and good sense. The proceedings of the council 
are uniformly conducted with the most perfect good order 
and decorum, 

^'JSach speaker carefully abstains from militating against 
the sensibility of any of his hearers : and uncourteous 
expressions towards each other, on these occasions, are 
never heard. Generally at each pause of the speaker, the 
audience testify their approbation, aloud, by the interjec- 
tion HEH : and as they believe that he has a just right to 
his own opinions, however absurd they m,ay appear to be, 
and opposite to their own, the expression of them excites 
no reprehension; and, if they cannot approve, they do 
not condemn, unless urged by necessity. 

" The day assigned for their departure having arrived, the 
squaws load their horses and dogs, and place as great a 
weight upon their own backs as they can conveniently 
transport ; and after having closed the entrances to their 
several habitations, by placing a considerable quantity of 
brushwood before them, the whole nation departs from the 
village. 

" The men scatter about in every direction, to reconnoi- 
ter the country for enemies and game ; but notwithstanding 



APPENDIX. 297 

he constant activity of the hunters, the people often en- 
dure severe privation from want of food, previously to their 
arrival within view of the bisons, an interval of fifteen or 
twenty days. 

" On coming in sight of the herd, the hunters speak kind- 
ly to their horses ; applying to them the endearing name 
of father, brother, uncle, «fec. ; they petition them not to 
fear the buffaloes, but to run well, and keep close to them, 
but at the same time to avoid being gored. The party 
having approached as near to the herd as they suppose the 
animals will permit, without taking the alarm, they halt, 
to give the pipe bearer an opportunity of smoking ; which 
is considered necessary to their success. He lights his 
pipe, and remains a short time with his head inclined, and 
the stem of the pipe extended towards the herd. He then 
smokes, and puffs the smoke towards the buffaloes, towards 
the heavens and the earth, and finally to the cardinal points 
successively. These last they distinguish by the terms, 
sunrise, sunset, cold country and warm country ; or they 
designate them collectively by the phrase of the four winds. 

** The ceremony of smoking being performed, the word 
for starting is given by the principal chief. They imme- 
diately separate into two bands, who pass in full speed to 
the right and left, and perform a considerable circuit, with 
the object of enclosing the herd, at a considerable interval 
between them. The^^ien close in upon the animals, and 
each man endeavors t^^ill as many of them as his oppor- 
tunity permits. 

" It is upon this occasion, that the Indians display their 
horsemanship, and dexterity in archery. Whilst in full 
run, they discharge the arrow with an aim of much certain- 
ty, so that it penetrates the body of the animal behind the 
shoulder. If it should not bury itself so deeply as they 
wish, they are often known to ride up to the enraged ani- 
mal and withdraw it. They observe the direction and 
depth to which the arrow enters, in order to ascertain 
whether or not the wound is mortal, of which they can 
judge with a considerable degree of exactness ; when a 
death wound is inflicted the hunter raises a shout of exul- 
tation, to prevent others from pursuing the individual of 
which he considers himself certain. He then passes on in 
pursuit of another, and so on until his quiver is exhausted, 
or the game has fled beyond his farther pursuit. 



298 APPENDIX. 

*' The force of the arrow, when discharged by a dexter 
ous and athletic Indian, is very great, and we were even 
credibly informed, that under favorable circumstances, it 
has been known to pass entirely through the body of a 
buffalo, and actually to fly some distance, or fall to the 
ground, on the opposite side of the animal. 

" Notwithstanding the apparent confusion of this engage- 
ment, and that the same animal is sometimes feathered by 
arrows from different archers before he is despatched, or 
considered mortally wounded, yet, as each man knows his 
own arrows from all others, and can also estimate the na- 
ture of the wound, whether it would produce a speedy 
death to the animal, quarrels respecting the right of pro- 
perty in the prey seldom occur, and it is consigned to the 
more fortunate individual, whose weapon penetrated the 
most vital part. The chase having terminated, each Indi- 
an can trace back his devious route to the starting place, 
so as to recover any small article he may have lost. 

" A fleet horse, well trained to hunt, runs at the proper 
distance, with the reins thrown upon his neck, parallel 
with the buffalo, turns as he turns, and does not cease to 
exert his speed until the shoulder oi the animal is present- 
ed, and the fatal arrow is implanted there. He then com- 
plies with the motion of his rider, who leans to one side 
in order to direct his course to another buffalo. Such 
horses as these are reserved by their owners exclusively 
for the chase, and are but rarely subjected to the drudgery 
of carrying burdens. 

" When the herd has escaped, and those that are only 
wounded, or disabled, are secured, the hunters proceed to 
flay and cut up the slain. Every eatable part of the ani- 
mal is carried to the camp, and preserved, excepting the 
feet and the head ; but the brains are taken from the skull, 
for the purpose of dressing the skin, or converting it into 
Indian leather." 

In descending the Ontonagon river, which falls into Lake 
Superior, Mr. Schoolcraft says : '* Our Indian guides stop- 
ped on the east side of the river to examine a bear-fall that 
had been previously set, and were overjoyed to find a large 
bear entrapped. As it was no great distance from the river, 
we all landed to enjoy the sight. The animal sat lip on 
his fore paws, facing us, the hinder paws being pressed to 
the ground by a heavy weight of logs, which had been ar-* 



APPENDIX, 299 

ranged in such a manner as to allow the bear to creep 
under, and when, by seizmg the bait, he had sprung the 
trap, he could not extricate himself, although with his fore- 
paws he had demolished a part of the works. After view- 
ing him for some time, a ball was fired through his head, 
but did not kill him. The bear kept his position, and 
seemed to growl in defiance. A second ball was aimed at 
the heart, and took effect ; but he did not resign the con- 
test immediately, and was at last despatched with an axe. 
As soon as the bear fell, one of the Indians walked up, and 
addressing him by the name of Muckwah, shook him by 
the paw with a smiling countenance, saying in the Indian 
language, he was sorry he had been under the necessity 
of killing him, and hoped the offence would be forgiven, 
particularly as Long-Knife* had fired one of the balls. "t 



THEIR DANCES. 

All their dances are distinguished by appropriate names, 
such as the war dance, the scalp dance, the buffalo dance, 
the beggar's dance, &c. In Major Long's Journal, the beg- 
gar's dance is thus described : " About one hundred Ottoes, 
together with a deputation of the loway nation, who had 
been summoned by Major O'Fallon, (Indian agent for the 
government of the United States,) presented themselves at 
our camp. The principal chiefs advanced before their peo- 
ple, and, upon invitation seated themselves. After a short 
interval of silence, Shonga-Tonga, the Big Horse, a large, 
portly Indian, of a commanding presence, arose, and said : 
' My father, your children have come to dance before your 
tent, agreeably to our custom of honoring brave or distin- 
guished persons.' 

"After a suitable reply from Major O'Fallon, the amuse- 
ment of dancing was commenced, by the striking up of 
their rude instrumental and vocal music, the former consist- 
ing of a gong made of a large keg, over one end of which 
a skin was stretched, which was struck by a small stick ; 
and another instrument consisting of a stick of firm wood, 
notched like a saw, over the teeth of which a smaller stick 
was rubbed forcibly backward and forward. With these, 
rude as they were, very good time was preserved with the 

• An American. f Schoolcraft's Journal, p. 183. 



300 APPENDIX. 

vocal performers, who sat around them ; and by all the na- 
tives as they sat, in the inflection of their bodies, or the 
movements of their limbs. After the lapse of a little time, 
three individuals leaped up, and danced around for a few 
minutes ; then, at a concerted signal from the master of 
ceremonies, the music ceased and they retired to their seats, 
uttering a loud noise, which by patting the mouth rapidly 
with the hand, was broken into a succession of similar 
sounds, somewhat like the hurried barking of a dog. Several 
sets of dancers succeeded, each terminating as the first, 

**In the intervals of the dances, a warrior would step for- 
ward and strike a flag stafi* they had erected, with a stick, 
whip, or other weapon, and recount his martial deeds 
This ceremony is called '' striking the post,"* and what- 
ever is then said may be relied on as truth, being delivered 
in the presence of many a jealous warrior and witness, 
who could easily detect, and would immediately disgrace 
the striker, for exaggeration and falsehood. This is called 
the beggar's dance, during which some presents are always 
expected by the performers ; as tobacco, whiskey, or trin- 
kets. But, on this occasion, as none of these articles were 
immediately ofl*ered, the amusement was not, at first, dis- 
tinguished by much activity. The master of ceremonies 
continually called aloud to them, to exert themselves ; but 
still they were somewhat dull and backward. letan (the 
master of ceremonies,) now stepped forward, and lashed a 
post with his whip, declaring, that he would thus punish 
those who would not dance. 

"This threat from one whom they had vested with au- 
thority for this occasion, had a manifest eflect upon his 
auditors, who were presently highly wrought up, by the 
sight of two or three little mounds of tobacco twists, which 
were now laid before them, and appeared to infuse new 
life. After lashing the post, and making his threat, letan 
went on to relate his martial exploits. He had stolen 
horses, seven or eight times, from the Konzas ; he had 
first struck the bodies of three of that nation, slain in bat- 
tle. He had stolen horses from the letan nation, and had 
struck one of their dead. He had stolen horses from the 
Pawnees, and struck the body of one Pawnee Loup. He 
had stolen horses several times from the Omawhaws, and 

* Of this au explanation will hereafter be giyen. 



APPENDIX. 301 

once from the Pimcas. He had struck the bodies of two 
Sioux. On a war party, in company with the Pawnees, 
he had attacked the Spaniards, and penetrated into one of 
their camps. The Spaniards, except a man and a boy, fled. 
He was at a distance before his party, and was shot at, and 
missed, by the man, whom he immediately shot down and 
struck. * This, my father,' said he, * is the only martial 
art of my life that I am ashamed of.' 
'* After several rounds of dancing, and of striking at th 
post, the Miaketa, or the little soldier, a war worn veteran, 
took his turn to strike the post. He leaped actively 
about, and strained his voice to ihe utmost pitch, while he 
portrayed some of the scenes of blood in which he had 
acted. He had struck dead bodies of all the red nations 
around, Osages, Konzas, Pawnee Loups, Pawnee Repub- 
licans, Grand Pawnees, Puncas, Omawhaws, Sioux, Pa- 
ducas. La Plais, or Baldheads, letans. Sacs, Foxes, and 
loways. He had struck eight of one nation, seven of 
another, &c. He was proceeding with his account, when 
letan ran up to him, put his hand upon his mouth, and res- 
pectfully led him to his seat. This act was no trifling 
compliment, paid to the well known brave. It indicated, 
that he had still so many glorious acts to speak of, that he 
would occupy so much time as to prevent others from 
speaking, and put to shame the other warriors, by the con- 
trast of his actions with theirs. 

" Their physical action is principally confined to leap- 
ing a small distance from the ground, with both feet, the 
body being slightly inclined ; and upon alighting, an addi- 
tional slight, but sudden inclination of the body is made so 
as to appear like a succession of jerks ; or the feet are 
raised alternately, the motions of the body being the same. 
Such are their movements, in which the whole party cor- 
responds ; but in the figures as they are termed, in our as- 
sembly rooms, each individual performs a separate part, 
and each part is a significant pantomimic narrative. In all 
their variety of action, they are careful to observe the mu- 
sical cadences. In this dance, letan represents one who 
was in the act of stealing horses. He carried a whip in 
his hand, as did a considerable number of the Indians, and 
around his neck were thrown several leather thongs, for 
bridles, and halters, the ends of which trailed on the ground 
behind him. 

Z 



302 APPENDIX. 

" After many preparatory manoeuvers, he stooped down, 
and with his knife, represented the act of cutting the hop- 
ples of horses ; he then rode his tomahawk, as children 
ride their broomsticks, making such use of his whip, as to 
indicate the necessity of rapid movement, lest his foes 
should overtake him. Wa-sa-ba-jing-ga, or Little Black 
Bear, after a variety of gestures, threw several arrows, in 
succession, over his head, thereby indicating his familiarity 
with the flight of such missiles ; he, at the same time, cov- 
ered his eyes with his hand, to indicate that he was blind 
to danger. Others represented their manoeuvres in battle, 
seeking their enemy, discharging at him their guns and ar- 
rows, (fee. &c. Most of the dancers were the principal 
warriors of the nation, men who had not condescended to 
amuse themselves, or others in this manner, for years be- 
fore ; but they now appeared in honor of the occasion, and 
to conciliate, in their best manner, the good will of the 
representative of the government of the Big Knives.* 

" Among these veteran warriors, letan, or Shamonekus- 
see, Hashea, the Broken Arm, commonly called Cutnose, 
and Wa-sa-ba-jing-ga, or Little Black Bear, three youthful 
leaders, in particular attracted our attention. In conse- 
quence of having been appointed soldiers on this occasion 
to preserve order, they were painted entirely black. The 
countenance of the former indicated much wit, and had, in 
its expression, something of the character of that of Vol- 
taire. He frequently excited the mirth of those about him 
by his remarks and gestures. Hashea, called Cutnose, in 
consequence of having lost the tip of his nose in a quarrel 
with letan, wore a handsome robe of white wolf skin, with 
an appendage behind him called a crow. This singular 
decoration is a large cushion, made of the skin of a crow, 
stuffed with any light material, and variously ornamented. 
It has two decorated sticks projecting from it upward, and 
a pendant one beneath. This apparatus is secured upon 
the buttocks by a girdle passing round the body. 

" The other actors in the scene were decorated with paints, 
of several colors, fantastically disposed upon their persons. 
Several were painted with white clay, which had the ap- 
pearance of being grooved in ma.iy places. 'J'his grooved 

• The appellation by which the Indians dibtiiiguish the whites of th« 
UniteU States. 



APPENDIX. 303 

appearance is given, by draining the finger nails over the 
part, so as to remove the pigment from thence, in parallel 
lines. These lines are either rectilinear, undulated, or 
zigzag : sometimes passing ©ver the forehead transversely, 
or vertically ; sometimes in the same directions, or ob- 
liquely over the whole visage, or upon the breast, arms, 
&c. Many were painted with red clay, in which the same 
lines appeared. A number of them had the representation 
of a black hand, with outspread fingers, on difierent parts 
of the body, strongly contrasted with the principal color 
with which the body was overspread ; the hand was de- 
picted in difiTerent positions upon the face, breast and back. 
The faces of others were colored one half black, and the 
other white, &c. 

" Many colored their hair with red clay ; but the eyelids 
and base of the ears, were generally tinged with vermilion. 
At the conclusion of the ceremony, whisky, which they 
always expect on similar occasions, was produced, and a 
small portion given to each. The principal chiefs of the dif- 
ferent nations, who had remained passive spectators of the 
scene, now directed their people to return to their camp. 
The word of the chiefs was obeyed, except by a few of 
the loways, who appeared to be determined to keep their 
places, notwithstanding the reiterated command of the 
chiefs. letan now sprang towards them, with an expres- 
sion of much ferocity in his countenance, and it is proba- 
ble, a tragic scene would have been displayed, had not the 
chiefs requested him to use gentle means, and thus he suc- 
ceeded, after which the chiefs withdrew."* 

EMBASSIES. 

Charlevoix says, '* in their treaties for peace, and gener- 
ally, in all their negotiations, they discover a dexterity, 
and a nobleness of sentiment, which would do honor to 
the most polished nations. "t A specimen of the mode of 
negotiating peace among the Missouri Indians, which I 
shall extract from Major Long's Journal, will, in a consid- 
erable degree, sustain the foregoing remark of Charlevoix : 
it will also convey an idea of the formalities observed on 
that occasion, with greater accuracy, than any general ob- 
servations. 

* Vol. l,[)age 153. f Charlevoix, p. 167. 



304 APPENDIX. 

** During the stay of our detached party at the Konza 
village, several chief men of the nation requested Mn 
Dougherty to lead a deputation from them, to their enemies 
the Ottoes, Missouris, and loways, then dwelling in one 
village on the Platte, Circumstances then prevented the 
gratification of their wishes, but he gave them to under- 
stand, that if the deputation should meet our party near 
Council Bluff, he would probably then be authorized to 
ear them company : on which they determined to send a 
arty thither. Accordingly, on the day preceding the arri- 
val of our steam-boat at the position chosen for our winter 
cantonment, a deputation from the Konzas arrived for that 
purpose. It consisted of six men, led by Herochche, or 
the Red War Eagle, one of the principal warriors of the 
Konza nation. 

" Mr. Dougherty having made their pacific mission to 
Major O'Fallon, the latter expressed to them his cordial 
approbation of their intentions, and the following day he 
despatched Mr. Dougherty with them, to protect them by 
his presence, on their approach to the enemy, and to as- 
sist them by his mediation, in their negotiations, should it 
be found necessary. 

"The distance of the Oto village is about twenty-five 
miles ; on the journey over the prairies, they espied an 
object at a distance, which v/as mistaken for a man standing 
upon an eminence. The Indians immediately halted, when 
Herochche addressed them with the assurance that they 
must put their trust in the Master of Life, and in their lea- 
ders ; and observed that, having journeyed thus far on their 
business, they must not return until their purpose was ac- 
complished ; that if it was their lot to die, no event could 
save them ; ' we have set out, my braves,' said he, * to eat 
of the Otoes victuals, and we must do so or die ;' the party 
then proceeded onward. The Indians are always very 
cautious when approaching an enemy's village, on any oc- 
casion, and this party well knew that their enterprize was 
full of danger. 

" In a short time they were again brought to a halt, by die 

appearance of a considerable number of men and horses, 

that were advancing towards them. After some consul ta- 

tton and reconnoitering, they sat down upon the ground, 

Ughting the peace pipe, or calumet, Herochche directed 

of it towards the object of their suspicion, saying, 



APPENDIX. 305 

* smoke friend, ot foe,' he then directed it towards the Oto 
village, towards the white people, towards heaven, and the 
earth successively." 

The strangers, however, proved to be drovers, with cat- 
tle for the troops, on their way to Council Bluff. 

** In consequence of being thus detained, it was late in 
the afternoon when the party arrived at the Platte river, 
and as they had still eighteen miles to travel, and it was 
indispensable to their safety that they should reach the vil- 
lage before dark, Mr. Dougherty urged his horse rapidly 
forwards. The Indians, who were all on foot, ran the 
whole distance, halting but twice, in order to cross the Elk 
Horn and Platte rivers, although one of them was upwards 
of sixty years of age, and three of the others were much 
advanced in years. 

*' As they drew near the Oto village, they were discov- 
ered by some boys who were collecting their horses to- 
gether for the night, and who, in a telegraphic manner, 
communicated intelligence of their approach, to the people 
of the village, by throwing their robes into the air. 

" The party was soon surrounded by the inhabitants, 
who rushed towards them, riding, and running with the 
greatest impetuosity. The greatest confusion reigned for 
some time, the Otoes shouting, hallooing, and screaming, 
whilst their Konza visitors lamented aloud. Shamonekus- 
see soon arrived, and restored a degree of order, when the 
business of the mission being made known in a few words, 
the Konzas were taken up, behind some of the horsemen, 
and conveyed as rapidly as possible, to the lodge of Shon- 
gotongo, lest personal violence should be offered them on 
the way. They did not, however, escape the audible male- 
dictions of the squaws, as they passed, but were stigma- 
tized as wrinkled-faced old men with hairy chins, and ugly 
faces, and flat noses. 

" After running this species of gauntlet, they were qui- 
etly seated in the lodge, where they were sure of protection. 
A squaw, however, whose husband had been recently killed 
by the Konzas, rushed into the lodge, with the intention 
of seeking vengeance by killing one of the ambassadors on 
the spot. She stood suddenly before Herochche, and 
seemed a very demon of fury. She caught his eye, and at 
the instant, with all her strength, she aimed a bloyr at his 
breast with a large knife, which Was firmly gras]^ in hm 



306 APPENDIX. 

right hand) and which she seemed confident of sheathing 
in his heart. At that truly hopelese moment, the counte- 
nance of the warrior remained unchanged, and even exhib- 
ited no emotion whatever ; and when the knife approached 
its destination with the swiftness of lightning, his eye stood 
firm, nor were its lids seen to quiver ; so far from recoil- 
ing, or raising his arm to avert the blow, that he even rather 
protruded his breast to meet that death which seemed inevi- 
table, and which was only averted by the sudden interpo- 
sition of the arm of one of her nation, that received the 
weapon to the very bone, 

" Thus foiled in her attempt, the squaw was gently led 
out of the lodge, and no one offered her violence, or even 
harsh reproof. No further notice was taken of this trans- 
action by either party. Food was then, as usual, placed 
before the strangers, and soon after a warrior entered with 
a pipe, which he held whilst Herochche smoked, saying in 
a loud voice, ' you tell us you wish for peace ; I say I will 
give you a horse ; let us see which of us will be the liar, 
you or I.' The horse was presented to him. 

" The evening, and much of the night, were passed in 
friendly conversation respecting the events of the five 
years' war which they had waged with each other. On 
the following morning, the Konzas were called to partake 
of the hospitality of different lodges, whilst the prip<*ipal 
men of the village were assembled in council, to deliberate 
upon the subject of concluding a peace. 

" At noon, the joint and grand council was held in Cre- 
nier's lodge. The Otoes, Missouris, and loways took their 
seats around the apartment, with the Konzas in the centre. 
Herochche, whose business it was first to speak, holding 
the bowl of the calumet in his hand, remained immoveable 
for the space of three-fourths of an hour, when he arose, 
pointed the stem of the calumet towards each of the three 
nations successively, then towards heaven, and the earth, 
after which he stretched out his arm, with the palm 
of the hand towards each of the members in succession, 
he then proceeded to shake each individual by the hand, 
after which he returned to his place, and renewed the mo- 
tion of the hand as before. 

** Having performed all these introductory formalities, he 
itood firm and erect, though perfectly easy and unconstrairtr 
•d, find with a bold expression of countenan.ce, loud voice, and 



APPENDIX. 307 

emphatical gesticulation, he thu« addressed the council: — 

" 'Fathers, brothers, chiefs, warriors, and brave men— 
You are all great men : I am a poor, obscure individual. 
It has, however, become my duty to inform you, that the 
chiefs and warriors of my nation, some time ago, held a 
council for the purpose of concerting measures to terminate 
amicably the cruel and unwelcome war that has so long 
existed between us, and chosen me, all insignificant as I 
am, to bring you this pipe which I hold in my hand. I 
have visited your village, that we might all smoke from the 
same pipe, and eat from the same bowl, with the same 
spoon, in token of our future union in friendship, 

" 'On approaching your village, my friends and relatives, 
I thought I had not long to live. I expected that you would 
kill me and these poor men who have followed me. But 
I received encouragement from the reflection, that if it 
should be my lot to die to-day, I would not have to die to- 
morrow, and I relieS firmly upon the Master of Life. 

" 'ISTor was this anticipation of death unwarranted by 
precedent : you may recollect, that five winters ago, six 
vrarriors of my nation came to you, as I have now done, 
and that you killed them all but one, who had the good 
'brtune to escape. This circumstance was vivid in my 
memory when I yesterday viewed your village in the dis- 
tance ; said I, those warriors who preceded me in the at- 
tempt to accomplish this desirable object, although they 
were greater and more brave than I, yet they were killed 
by those whom they came to conciliate, and why shall I 
not share their fate? If so, my bones will bleach near 
theirs. If, on the contrary, I should escape death, I will 
visit the bones of my friends. The oldest of my followers 
here, was father-in-law to the chief of those slaughtered 
messengers ; he is poor and infirm, and has followed us 
with difficulty ; his relatives also are poor, and have been 
long lamenting the loss of the chief you killed. I hope 
you will have pity on him, and give him moccasons (mean- 
ing a horse) to return home with, for he cannot walk. Two 
or three others of my companions are also in want of moc- 
casons for their journey homeward. 

*' 'My friends, we wish for peace, and we are tired of war. 
There is a large tract of country intervening between us, 
from which, as it is so constantly traversed by our respec- 
tive hostile parties, we cannot either of us kill the game in 



308 APPENDIX. 

security, to furnish our traders with peltries. I wi«h to eec 
a large level road over that country, connecting our villages 
together, near which no one can conceal himself in order 
to kill passengers, and that our squaws may be enabled to 
visit from village to village in safety, and not be urged by 
fear to cast off their packs and betake themselves to the 
thickets, when they see any person on the route. Our na- 
tions have made peace frequently, but a peace has not been 
of long duration. I hope, however, that which we shall now 
establish, will continue one day, two days, three days, four 
days, five days. My friends ! what I have told you is true ; 
I was not sent here to tell you lies. That is all I have to 
say.' 

" Herochche then lit his pipe, and presented the stem to 
the brother of the Crenier, Wasacaruja, or he who eats raw, 
who had formerly been his intimate friend. The latter 
held the end of the stem in his hand, whilst he looked He- 
rochche full in the face for a considerable space of time. 
At length, he most emphatically asked, ' is all true 
that you have spoken V The other, striking himself re- 
peatedly and forcibly upon the breast, answered with a loud 
voice, * Yes, it is all truth that I have spoken.' Wasaca- 
ruja, without any further hesitation, accepted the proffered 
pipe, and smoked, whilst Herochche courteously held the 
bowl of it in his hand ; the latter warrior then held it in 
succession to each member of council, who respectively 
took a whiff or two, after which the pipe itself was pre- 
sented to Wasacaruja, to retain. 

" It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the en- 
ergy and propriety with which this speech was delivered, 
or of the dignity and self-possession of the speaker. Be- 
fore he commenced, he hesitated, and looked around upon 
his enemies, probably in order to trace in the lineaments of 
their countenances, the expressions of their feelings towards 
him^ He then began his address, by raising his voice at 
once to its full intonation, producing a truly powerful effect 
upon the ear, by a contrast with the deep and long continu- 
ed silence which preceded it. He was at no loss for subject 
or for words, but proceeded right onwards to the close of 
his speech, like a full-flowing impetuous stream. 

" Wasacaruja, in consequence of having first accepted of 
the calumet, was now regarded as responsible for the sm^ 
cerity of his firiend Herochche. He therefore arose, and 



APPEIfDIX, JOB 

diu8 addressed the ambassador : — ^ Mj friend ! I am glad 
to see you on such an occasion as the present, and to hear 
that your voice is forpeace. A few winters ago, when we 
were in friendship with each other, I visited your village, 
and you gave me all your people, saying that all the Kon- 
zas were mine. But it was not long afterwards, as we 
hunted near your country, that you stole our horses, and 
killed some of our people, and I cannot but believe that the 
same course will be again pursued. Nevertheless, I shall 
again repair to the same place of which I have spoken, this 
autumn, for the purpose of hunting, and in the spring I will 
again visit your town. You observed that you were appre- 
hensive of being killed as you approached our village, and 
you most probably would have been so, coming as you did, 
late in the evening, and without the lisual formality of send- 
ing a messenger to apprize us of your approach, had you 
not been accompanied by the Big Knife, with whom you 
are so well acquainted. But we have now smoked to- 
gether, and I hope that the peace thus established may long 
continue. You say that you are in want of moccasons ; 
we will endeavor to give you one or two for your journey 
home. That is all I have to say.' 

" Herochche then apologized for his unceremonious en- 
trance into the village, by saying, that he knew it was 
customary to send forward a runner, on such an occasion, 
and he should have done so, but his friend the Big Knife, 
whom he had previously consulted with that view, told him 
that he had full confidence in the magnanimity of the Otoes. 
Thus the ceremony was concluded, and peace restored be- 
tween the two nations/** 

WAR EXPEDITIONS. 

In this number we shall give a few striking instances of 
the dexterity and address, as well as the devoted courage, 
which frequently distinguish their conduct in war. 

" In the year 1763, Detroit, containing a British ganisoa 
of three hundred men, commanded by Major Gladwyn, was 
besieged by a confederacy of Indian tribes under Pontiac, 
an Ottoway chief, who displayed such a boldness in his de- 
signs, such skill in negotiation, and such personal courage 
in war, as to justify us in considering him one of the grea*- 

* L(»ig^i Journal, vol. 1, p. 310. 



310 APPENDIX. 

est men who have ever appeared among the Indian tribes 
of North America. He was the decided and constant ene- 
my of the British government, and excelled all his contempo- 
raries in both mental and bodily vigor. His conspiracy for 
making himself master of the town of Detroit, and destroy* 
ing the garrison, although frustrated, is a master-piece 
among Indian stratagems ; and his victory over the British 
troops at the battle of Bloody Bridge, stands unparalleled 
in the history of Indian wars, for the decision and steady 
courage by which it was, in an open fight, achieved. 

" As, at the time above mentioned, every appearance of 
war was at an end, and the Indians seemed to be on a 
friendly footing, Pontiac approached Detroit without ex- 
citing any suspicions in the breast of the governor, or the 
inhabitants. He encamped at a little distance from it, and 
let the commandant know that he was come to trade ; and 
being desirous of brightening the chain of peace between 
the English and his nation, desired that he and his chiefs 
might be admitted to kold a council with him. The gov- 
ernor, still unsuspicious, and not in the least doubting the 
sincerity of the Indian, granted their general's request, and 
fixed on the next morning for their reception. 

<* On the evening of that day, an Indian woman who had 
been appointed by Major Gladwyn to make a pair of Indian 
shoes, out of a curious elkskin, brought them home. The 
major was so pleased with them, that, intending these as a 
present for a friend, he ordered her to take the remainder 
back, and make it into others for himself. He then directed 
his servant to pay her for those she had done, and dismissed 
her. The woman went to the door that led to the street, but 
no further ; she there loitered about as if she had not finished 
the business on which she came. A servant at length ob- 
served her, and asked her why she staid there ? She gave 
him, however, no answer. 

" Some short time after, the governor himself saw her, 
and inquired of his servant what occasioned her stay. Not 
being able to get a satisfactory answer, he ordered the wo- 
man to be called in. When she came into his presence, he 
desired to know what was the reason of her loitering about, 
and not hastening home before the gates were shut, that she 
might complete in due time the work he had given her to 
do. She told him, after much hesitation, that as he had 
always behaved with great goodness towards her, she was 



APPENDIX. 311 

unwilling to take away the remainder of the skin, because 
he put so great a value upon it ; and yet had not been able 
to prevail upon herself to tell him so. He then asked her 
why she was more reluctant to do so now than she had 
been when she made the former pair. With increased re- 
luctance she answered, that she should never be able to 
bring them back. 

" His curiosity was now excited, he insisted on her dis- 
closing the secret that seemed to be struggling in her bosom 
for utterance. At last, on receiving a pro^aise that the in- 
telligence she was about to give him should not turn to her 
prejudice, and that if it appeared to be beneficial she should 
be rewarded for it, she informed him, that at the council to 
be held with the Indians the following day, Pontiac and his 
chiefs intended to murder him ; and, after having massacred 
the garrison and inhabitants, to plunder the town. Tha 
for this purpose, all the chiefs who were to be admitted ir. 
to the council room had cut their guns short, so that the v 
could conceal them under their blankets ; with which tj\ 
a signal given by their general, on delivering the belt, thev 
were all to rise up, and instantly to fire on him and his attenc 
ants. Having efifected this, they were immediately to rush 
into the town, where they would find themselves supported 
by a great number of their warriors, that were to come into 
it during the sitting of the council under the pretence of 
trading, but privately armed in the same manner. Having 
gained from the woman every necessary particular relative 
to the plot, and also the means by which she acquired a 
knowledge of them, he dismissed her with injunctions of 
secrecy, and a promise of fulfilling on his part with punc- 
tuality the engagements he had entered into. 

" The intelligence the governor had just received gave 
him great uneasiness ; and he immediately consulted the offi- 
cer who was next him in command on the subj ect. But this 
gendeman, considering the information as a story invented 
for some artfiil purpose, advised him to pay no attention to 
it. This conclusion, however, had happily, no weight with 
him. He thought it pnident to conclude it to be true, till 
he was convinced that it was not so ; and therefore, without 
revealing his suspicions to any other person, he took every 
needful precaution that the time would admit of. He walk- 
ed around the fort the whole night, and saw himself, that 



$\% APPENDIX. 

every sentinel was upon duty, and every weapon of defence 
in proper order. 

"As he traversed the ramparts that lay nearest to the Indi- 
an camp, he heard them in high festivity, and litde imagin- 
ing that their plot was discovered, probably pleasing them- 
selves with the anticipation of their success. As soon as 
the morning dawned, he ordered all the garrison under arms, 
and then imparting his apprehension to a few of the prin* 
cipal officers, gave them such directions as he thought ne- 
cessary. At the same time he sent round to all the traders, 
to inform them, that as it was expected a great number of 
Indians would enter the town that day, who might be in- 
clined to plunder, he desired they would have their arms 
ready, and repel any attempt of that kind. 

" About ten o'clock, Pontiac and his chiefs arrived, and 
were conducted to the council chamber, where the governoi 
and his principal officers, each with pistols in his belt, 
awaited his arrival. As the Indians passed on, they could 
not help observing that a greater number of troops than 
usual were drawn up on the parade, or marching about. 
No sooner were they entered and seated on the skins pre- 
pared for them, than Pontiac asked the governor, on what 
occasion his young men, meaning the soldiers, were thus 
drawn up and parading the streets ? He received for an- 
swer, that it was only intended to keep them perfect in 
their exercise. 

" The Indian chief-warrior now began his speech, which 
contained the strongest professions of friendship and good 
will, towards the English : and when he came to the deliv- 
ery of the belt of wampum, the particular mode of which, 
according to the woman's information, was to be the signal 
for the chiefs to fire, the governor and all his attendants 
drew their swords half way out of their scabbards ; and the 
soldiers at the same instant made a clattering with their 
arms before the doors, which had been purposely left open* 
Pontiac, though one of the bravest of men, immediately 
turned pale and trembled ; and instead of giving the belt in 
the manner proposed, delivered it according to the usual 
way. His chiefs, who had impatiently expected the sig- 
nal, looked at each other with astonishment, but continued 
quiet, waiting the result. 

" The governor, in his turn, made a speech, but instead 
•f liianking the great warrior for the professions of friend* 



APPENDIX. 3J3 

ship he had just uttered, he accused him of being a traitor. 
He told him that the English, who knew every thing, were 
convinced of his treachery and villainous designs ; and as 
a proof that they were acquainted with his most secret 
thoughts and intentions, he stepped towards an Indian chief 
that sat nearest to him, and drawing aside the blanket, dis- 
covered the shortened firelock. This entirely disconcerted 
the Indians, and frustrated their design. 

" He then continued to tell them, that as he had given 
his word at the time they desired an audience, that their 
persons should be safe, he would hold his promise inviola- 
ble, though they so little deserved it. However, he desired 
them to make the best of their way out of the fort, lest 
his young men, on being acquainted with their treacherous 
purposes, should cut every one of them to pieces. 

" Pontiac endeavored to contradict the accusation, and 
to make excuses for his suspicious conduct ; but the gov- 
ernor, satisfied of the falsity of his protestations, would 
not listen to him. The Indians immediately left the fort ; 
but instead of being sensible of the governor's generous 
behavior, they threw ofi* the mask, and the next day made 
a regular attack upon it." 

Major Gladwyn has not escaped censure for this mista- 
ken lenity : for probably had he kept a few of the princi- 
pal chiefs prisoners, whilst he had them in his power, he 
might have been able to have brought the whole confede- 
racy to terras, and prevented a war. But he atoned for 
his oversight, by the gallant defence he made for more 
than a year, amidst a variety of discouragements. 

** During that period some very smart skirmishes hap- 
pened between the besiegers and garrison, of which the 
following was the principal and most bloody. Captain 
Delzel, a brave officer, prevailed on the governor to give 
him the command of about two hundred men, and to per- 
mit him to attack the enemy's camp. This being complied 
with, he sallied from the town before daybreak ; but Pon- 
tiac, receiving from some of his swift-footed warriors, who 
were constantly employed in watching the motions of the 
garrison, timely intelligence of their design, collected the 
choicest of his troops, and met the detachment at some dis- 
tance from his camp, near a place since called Bloody 
Bridge. As the Indians were vastly superior in number, 
to Captain Dclzel's part}-, he was soon, overpowered and 



314 APPENDIX. 

driven back. Being now nearly surrounded, he made a 
vigorous effort to regain the bridge he had just crossed, by 
which alone he could find a retreat : but in doing this he 
lost his life, and many of his men fell with him. Howev- 
er, Major Rogers, the second in command, assisted by Lieu- 
tenant Braham, found means to draw off the shattered re- 
mains of their little army, and conducted them into the 
fx)rt. 

" Then considerably reduced, it was with difficulty the 
major could defend the town, notwithstanding which, he 
held out against the Indians till he was relieved ; as after 
this they made but few attacks upon the place, and only 
continued to blockade it. The Gladwyn schooner arrived 
about this time near the town, with a reinforcement and 
necessary supplies. But before this vessel could reach the 
place of its destination, it was most vigorously attacked by 
a detachment from Pontiac's army. The Indians surround- 
ed it in their canoes, and made great havoc among the crew. 

** At length, the captain of the schooner, with a consider- 
able number of his crew, being killed, #ind the savages be- 
ginning to climb up the sides from every quarter, the lieu- 
tenant being determined that the stores should not fall into 
the enemy's hands, and seeing no alternative, ordered the 
gunner to set fire to the powderroom and blow the ship up. 
This order was on the point of being executed, when a 
chief of the Hurons who understood the English language, 
gave out to his friends the intention of the commander. 
On receiving this intelligence, the Indians hurried down 
the sides of the ship with the greatest precipitation and got 
as far from it as possible ; while the commander immedi- 
ately took advantage of their consternation, and arrived 
without any further obstruction at the town. 

*' This seasonable supply gave the garrison fresh spirits : 
arid Pontiac, being now convinced that it would not be in 
his power to reduce the place, proposed an accommodation. 
The governor, wishing much to get rid of such troublesome 
enemies, listened to his proposals, and having procured ad- 
vantageous terms, agreed to a peace."* 

The massacre of the garrison of Michilimackinac, which 
occurred also in the year 1763, while it exhibits one of the 

* I have extracted this narrative of Pontiac's attempt on Detroit, fror 
Mr. Schoolcraft, who takes it from Carver's Travels. 



APPENDIX. 315 

most shocking instances of Indian barbarity, is at the same 
time a striking proof of the sagacity and dissimulation of 
the Indian character. It appears from the very interesting 
account given of this transaction by Henry, who was an 
eye witness, *' That the Indians were in the habit of play- 
ing at a game called Bag-gat-iway, which is played with a 
ball and a bat on the principles of our foot ball, and decided 
by one of the party's heaving the ball beyond the goal of 
their adversaries. The king's birth day, the 4th of June, 
having arrived, the Sacs and Chippeways who ^viere en- 
camped in great numbers around the fort, turned out upon 
tlie green, to play at this game for a high wager, and at- 
tracted a number of the garrison and traders to witness the 
sport. The game of bag-gat-iway is necessarily attended 
with much violence and noise. In the ardor of contest, the 
ball, if it cannot be thrown to the goal desired, is sti-uck in 
any direction by which it can be diverted from that designed 
by the adversary. 

At such a moment, therefore, nothing could be less liable 
to excite premature alarm, than that the ball should be 
tossed over the pickets of the fort, nor, having fallen there, 
it should be followed on the instant by all engaged in the 
game, as well the (5ne party as the other, all eager, all strug- 
gling, all shouting, in the unrestrained pursuit of a rude 
athletic exercise: nothing therefore could be more happily 
devised, under the circumstances, than a stratagem like this ; 
and it was in fact the stratagem which the Indians employ- 
ed to obtain possession of the fort, and by which they were 
enabled to slaughter and subdue its garrison, and such of 
the other inhabitants as they pleased. To be still more 
certain of success, they had prevailed on as many as they 
could, by a pretext the least liable to suspicion, to come 
voluntarily without the pickets ; and particularly the com 
mandant and garrison themselves. The Indians, after but 
chering the garrison, burnt down the fort." 



THE END. 



^"■•^3 



A 



